Elizabeth! (Hide the rum!)
Jack: You know, these clothes do not flatter you at all. It should be a dress or nothing. I happen to have no dress in my cabin...
I was gonna write pointless stuff about planning my pirate coat, about sourcing material for my father using luck and the wiles of the internet to save him lots of monies, about shoveling rubble-sized gravel out of the vast pile it was in to spread over the sizable Oastian drive and giving myself blisters all over my hands.
But instead I'm just reminded that I failed to say thank you to a very lovely old gentleman who is a family friend after he sent me a book and I promised to send him stories. I failed, as I fail to do many things I promise to do.
But that one very much bothers me.
So despite doing many small good deeds today for my father and being clever for my neuron projects, I now feel like a low unworthy crawling thing one should step on and I'd really like some vodka. Quite a lot of vodka. Bison grass vodka for utter preference, but really , I'm not feeling fussy. Of course when we really get down to it, I don't want to get drunk, I want to get better at being a shiny keecher. I want to be someone who keeps her promises, who is punctual showing her thanks and who makes the world better for others and therefore feels less of an inclination to neck vodka 'cos she believes she has failed. (Or who has enough magic to warp time, space and reality to her whim with a few poignant hand gestures or a carefully constructed spell/trinket/fetish/whatever. This second option is possibly less moral, definitely more likely to piss off scientists, but undeniably more fun.)
But that can't be brewed in a bottle. ...... And I have no vodka either. So, i guess the whole what-to-wish-for issue is moot, or solved, as you like.
I'm really very tired. So tired I'm having to correct 90% of my typing. But I have to wait 'til my parents go to bed before I can, otherwise I go mad. Madder.
Got to bed. All of you. Everyone. Shoo.
I was gonna write pointless stuff about planning my pirate coat, about sourcing material for my father using luck and the wiles of the internet to save him lots of monies, about shoveling rubble-sized gravel out of the vast pile it was in to spread over the sizable Oastian drive and giving myself blisters all over my hands.
But instead I'm just reminded that I failed to say thank you to a very lovely old gentleman who is a family friend after he sent me a book and I promised to send him stories. I failed, as I fail to do many things I promise to do.
But that one very much bothers me.
So despite doing many small good deeds today for my father and being clever for my neuron projects, I now feel like a low unworthy crawling thing one should step on and I'd really like some vodka. Quite a lot of vodka. Bison grass vodka for utter preference, but really , I'm not feeling fussy. Of course when we really get down to it, I don't want to get drunk, I want to get better at being a shiny keecher. I want to be someone who keeps her promises, who is punctual showing her thanks and who makes the world better for others and therefore feels less of an inclination to neck vodka 'cos she believes she has failed. (Or who has enough magic to warp time, space and reality to her whim with a few poignant hand gestures or a carefully constructed spell/trinket/fetish/whatever. This second option is possibly less moral, definitely more likely to piss off scientists, but undeniably more fun.)
But that can't be brewed in a bottle. ...... And I have no vodka either. So, i guess the whole what-to-wish-for issue is moot, or solved, as you like.
I'm really very tired. So tired I'm having to correct 90% of my typing. But I have to wait 'til my parents go to bed before I can, otherwise I go mad. Madder.
Got to bed. All of you. Everyone. Shoo.