I'm becoming less defined as days go by...
Watched my first episode of Torchwood the other night. I've forgotten how much I like British casting. They're all so flawed and pretty. :D
And is Jack always that...campy?
Read my first crossover with Dexter the other day. This was my first reaction: Oh...he kills people?
Clearly I've been out of the loop.
Speaking of loops and being out of them, Jesus Christ, Republican candidates, where did you all go? Last I looked, there was a lot more of you.
I hate not being able to watch Jon and Stephen. When this strike ends, I may actually have to like, break down and buy stuff from itunes. *shudder*
Okay, self, you and me gotta talk.
Let's start with the subconscious, shall we? Feel free to take notes.
When having a dream about Lex Luthor, please to be remembering that he has a lot of money and can therefore afford more than two Linkin Park cds and an Aimee Mann cd. Seriously.
When having a (sorta) sexual dream about Lex Luthor, do not run away and hide in the bathroom when he confesses that he feels he can actually talk to you and is willing to spend the rest of his life with you. Seriously, brain, he was kissing you and you had your happiness on a fucking plate in front of you...and you run away? This makes Lex Luthor want to blow shit up. Good lords of sleep, can't I be confident in my own dreams? Why must my dreams be horribly grounded to reality in the worst ways?
Dear dream!Lex Luthor:
I'm sure you didn't mean to keep morphing into Sylar when I turned my head, but it was rather creepy. Mike Rosenbaum's shiny head does not mix well with Zachary Quinto's well, anything. Especially not the eyebrows. I'm serious here.
Also, I distinctly remember knowing about your love of the gay, so why was there no Clark in my dream? I woulda liked some guy on guy action. Seriously, it would have calmed my mood down. That dream was a bitch and a half. Fucking dance elists.
However, they were better than the Beatles' loving gnomes from the night before. Seriously. They were terrified of Lord Voldemort (which was related to Rubber Soul...somehow) and the water was made out of silk and the trees kept attacking me.
Dreamsexually frustrated,
Me.
So basically...
Dear self:
What's with the cracky dreams? This has been the fourth night in a row. This does not happen to me. What gives?
Annoyed,
Me
Oh, while I'm at this...
Dear insomnia,
GO THE FUCK AWAY!
I'm tired. Really. Really. I want to sleep. For more than 2 hours at a time. *stares forlornly at walls*
Me.
p.s. Jon? I'm sorry for ever thinking it was sexy. If I ever write about you again, you'll be well rested, I promise. And alive. Really.
Speaking of walls, did you guys know I have a picture of sunflower!John and tulip!Rodney's child right next to my head? It's rather a pretty flower. I also have a picture of Wufei in well, leather pants and bondage cuffs that's level with my pillow. And about seven pictures of Jensen Ackles. And...Jon in a dress.
I like my wall. It makes me happy.
Oh, and my knee is worse. Like, as bad as it's ever been worse. They've upped my medication. *sighs wistfully* I'm never seeing alcohol ever again.
Clearly, I need to become a drug lord.
I've had all sorts of interesting thoughts due to
jelloh0530's last post. All about John and Sam, and John and Dean, and John being alone with two small kids, and desperation and the end and futility and love and everything that happened in the last episode, everything that happened in In My Time of Dying, and in the time between, and the choices John made 25 years ago, and the choices Dean and Sam have had to make. The lives they have had to live. But...the sound of my own typing is driving me nuts, and you all are far smarter about this stuff than I.
I've also come to the conclusion that I need to stop reading
fandomsecrets. I keep wanting to make them, and really? I just ain't got the skills. Nor the patience. Nor, well...I don't even know how to resize stuff. And I need to keep ignoring
ljsecret. There are so many things that I just want to tell people and get out there.
I'm possibly just waiting for the moment when I can just tell someone all of this and have them get it.
Someone who isn't Ashley. :P
Oh, and okay, self, one last thing.
Go to class. You've already paid for them all. And you love the Beatles. And stop...slashing everything. I will allow the Lennon/McCartney stuff if you insist, and I'll even let the Sylar/God stuff go, but I draw the line at adding vampires to the Crucifixation. I mean...you remember morals? And, well, lines? That's one of them. Don't cross it.
Seriously. Don't.
And stop laughing at the word 'come'. Especially in choir.
Also, don't take the sex addict up on his offer. He's still an asshole. Even though you used to like him (and still do and refuse to admit it to anyone), he's still an arrogant son of a bitch, and ...no, no, no, stop with the pity. No good will come of that road.
Plus, you don't even want to consider the number of STD's he has. It's probably higher than teh Leto's. Just...no.
Have I told you guys I want to go live in a convent/monastery for awhile. Or live as a hermit.
It's all about inner peace, right?
The icon has nothing to do with anything. I just...like to admire his, uh...jeans. :D
And is Jack always that...campy?
Read my first crossover with Dexter the other day. This was my first reaction: Oh...he kills people?
Clearly I've been out of the loop.
Speaking of loops and being out of them, Jesus Christ, Republican candidates, where did you all go? Last I looked, there was a lot more of you.
I hate not being able to watch Jon and Stephen. When this strike ends, I may actually have to like, break down and buy stuff from itunes. *shudder*
Okay, self, you and me gotta talk.
Let's start with the subconscious, shall we? Feel free to take notes.
When having a dream about Lex Luthor, please to be remembering that he has a lot of money and can therefore afford more than two Linkin Park cds and an Aimee Mann cd. Seriously.
When having a (sorta) sexual dream about Lex Luthor, do not run away and hide in the bathroom when he confesses that he feels he can actually talk to you and is willing to spend the rest of his life with you. Seriously, brain, he was kissing you and you had your happiness on a fucking plate in front of you...and you run away? This makes Lex Luthor want to blow shit up. Good lords of sleep, can't I be confident in my own dreams? Why must my dreams be horribly grounded to reality in the worst ways?
Dear dream!Lex Luthor:
I'm sure you didn't mean to keep morphing into Sylar when I turned my head, but it was rather creepy. Mike Rosenbaum's shiny head does not mix well with Zachary Quinto's well, anything. Especially not the eyebrows. I'm serious here.
Also, I distinctly remember knowing about your love of the gay, so why was there no Clark in my dream? I woulda liked some guy on guy action. Seriously, it would have calmed my mood down. That dream was a bitch and a half. Fucking dance elists.
However, they were better than the Beatles' loving gnomes from the night before. Seriously. They were terrified of Lord Voldemort (which was related to Rubber Soul...somehow) and the water was made out of silk and the trees kept attacking me.
Dreamsexually frustrated,
Me.
So basically...
Dear self:
What's with the cracky dreams? This has been the fourth night in a row. This does not happen to me. What gives?
Annoyed,
Me
Oh, while I'm at this...
Dear insomnia,
GO THE FUCK AWAY!
I'm tired. Really. Really. I want to sleep. For more than 2 hours at a time. *stares forlornly at walls*
Me.
p.s. Jon? I'm sorry for ever thinking it was sexy. If I ever write about you again, you'll be well rested, I promise. And alive. Really.
Speaking of walls, did you guys know I have a picture of sunflower!John and tulip!Rodney's child right next to my head? It's rather a pretty flower. I also have a picture of Wufei in well, leather pants and bondage cuffs that's level with my pillow. And about seven pictures of Jensen Ackles. And...Jon in a dress.
I like my wall. It makes me happy.
Oh, and my knee is worse. Like, as bad as it's ever been worse. They've upped my medication. *sighs wistfully* I'm never seeing alcohol ever again.
Clearly, I need to become a drug lord.
I've had all sorts of interesting thoughts due to
jelloh0530's last post. All about John and Sam, and John and Dean, and John being alone with two small kids, and desperation and the end and futility and love and everything that happened in the last episode, everything that happened in In My Time of Dying, and in the time between, and the choices John made 25 years ago, and the choices Dean and Sam have had to make. The lives they have had to live. But...the sound of my own typing is driving me nuts, and you all are far smarter about this stuff than I.
I've also come to the conclusion that I need to stop reading
fandomsecrets. I keep wanting to make them, and really? I just ain't got the skills. Nor the patience. Nor, well...I don't even know how to resize stuff. And I need to keep ignoring
ljsecret. There are so many things that I just want to tell people and get out there.
I'm possibly just waiting for the moment when I can just tell someone all of this and have them get it.
Someone who isn't Ashley. :P
Oh, and okay, self, one last thing.
Go to class. You've already paid for them all. And you love the Beatles. And stop...slashing everything. I will allow the Lennon/McCartney stuff if you insist, and I'll even let the Sylar/God stuff go, but I draw the line at adding vampires to the Crucifixation. I mean...you remember morals? And, well, lines? That's one of them. Don't cross it.
Seriously. Don't.
And stop laughing at the word 'come'. Especially in choir.
Also, don't take the sex addict up on his offer. He's still an asshole. Even though you used to like him (and still do and refuse to admit it to anyone), he's still an arrogant son of a bitch, and ...no, no, no, stop with the pity. No good will come of that road.
Plus, you don't even want to consider the number of STD's he has. It's probably higher than teh Leto's. Just...no.
Have I told you guys I want to go live in a convent/monastery for awhile. Or live as a hermit.
It's all about inner peace, right?
The icon has nothing to do with anything. I just...like to admire his, uh...jeans. :D