My flatlined inhibition is my ammunition

Well it's the end of the year and you know what that means - everyone has lists! lists! lists! I suck quite spectacularly when it comes to these end of year lists because I can never remember what movies/albums/books were actually released during the year. But it is the end of the year and I will attempt something of that nature later [probably] but in the meantime I have one of those generic questionaire things that I got...from...somewhere *shrugs*

***

End Of 2008 Quiz.

1. What did you do in 2008 that you'd never done before?
I don’t know, I did a whole lot of stuff. Oh, I went to London and Amsterdam and Germany…and spent 24 hours on a plane, and far too much time on a tour bus.

2. Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I said I’d exercise more and I certainly did that for a while.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
Yeah actually, weird.

4. Did anyone close to you die?
Nope

5. What countries did you visit?
South Africa, Ireland, England, the Netherlands, Germany, Belgium, Switzerland, France, Singapore (for three hours, still counts!)

6. What would you like to have in 2009 that you lacked in 2008?
I don’t think I lack in anything, except maybe sanity. But I don’t want to rectify that.

7. What dates from 2008 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
Seeing as I can’t remember any dates, I guess none.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
*ponders* I finished university.

9. What was your biggest failure?
Huh. No idea. Still a bit of a hermit?

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Oh yeah, I should just change my middle name to illness.

11. What was the best thing you bought?
God, I bought a lot of stuff. Oh but my Torchwood dvds, I do so love them.

12. Whose behaviour merited celebration?
My friends, who are clearly made of win, especially Abbi and Lizzie without whom my flailing would be sadly meaningless.

13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed?
Other than that of general humanity?

14. Where did most of your money go?
DVDs this year, definitely. Not enough touring bands, and far too many obsessions.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
TAI meet and greet, Doctor Who, fiishing uni, my end of year trip

16. What song will always remind you of 2008?
Oooh. Um. Sex on fire – Kings of Leon.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
i. happier or sadder?
I believe last NYE I fell down the stairs, so really, I’m a lot happier
ii. thinner or fatter?
Same really
iii. richer or poorer?
Poorer, haha. Euros and pounds will do that to you.

18. What do you wish you'd done more of?
I should probably have attempted making more friends at uni

19. What do you wish you'd done less of?
Procrastinate

20. How will you be spending Christmas?
Next year? Hell, I don’t know.

21. Did you fall in love in 2008?
Comical. No.

23. What was your favourite TV program?
Doctor Who and Torchwood. Is there anything else?

24. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
Nooo, I don’t think so.

25. What was the best book you read?
I have no idea what I read this year. Hmm. Breaking Dawn was good, I enjoyed having a happy ending for a change. Oh and The Book Thief, which is just fantastic.

26. What was your greatest musical discovery?
I have no idea what bands I discovered this year. I havent been nearly as proactive as I normally am, I don’t think. There were a few locals, like Yves Klein Blue. Oh MGMT and Twin Atlantic, the Brute Chorus, Glasvegas…anyone Abs saw open for someone and sent me links to lol.

27. What did you want and get?
I…have…no…idea. Oh wait no, I got an SLR camera, I wanted that. And I got to go overseas.

28. What did you want and not get?
Errr…

30. What was your favourite film of this year?
The Dark Knight stands out, possibly cause I saw it so many times.

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I wandered about London and met Abs face to face for the first time, 21.

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
Hanging out with Abs.

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2008?
Same as always, tshirt and jeans.

34. What kept you sane?
Music, fandom, Starbucks, Lizzie and Abbi.

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
Johnny Depp. It’s always Johnny Depp.

36. What political issue stirred you the most?
Political issues arent really a strong point (tis part of the reason I’m a useless punk), but the US election was fascinating.

37. Who did you miss?
A lot of people, at different times.

38. Who was the best new person you met?
I met a lot of awesome new people.

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2008.
I am not necessarily as painfully awkward as I think I am.

***

Currently waiting for Lizzie to come over so we can head off and welcome the new year. I've come to sort of resent the fanfare that surrounds NYE, I mean really, why do we do this? It's quite pagan in a way. Also, why is it generally assumed that it is NYE and thus you should be happy and in a party mood? What is this, mass emotion manufacturing? My NYEs have a rather underwhelming track record [one I believe was spent watching Titanic], but we can hope that doesn't bleed into tonight.

Music: One of those nighs - The Cab
Mood: Cheerfully anticipating

Judoon Platoon Upon The Moon

I have spent the past five hours being nerdy with Lizzie. Good times. Being nerdy really is a great deal of fun *nods earnestly*

Oreo has had an allergic reaction to something or other and is being sooky. She doesn't appear to be in pain or real discomfort other than itching. After giving her a bath, we've managed to get rid of the rash, but she still scratches. Her appetite is still good but she's been sick and shivers on occassion. I also don't think she's really drinking water. She doesn't look epically sick or anything, but it's just frustrating cause I don't know what to do and obviously it's not like she can't tell me. I just sit here feeling helpless and vaguely annoyed (mostly because my father makes a huge deal out of it and saps my energy.)

I'm really tired, I'm not sure why, struggling to keep my eyes open in fact. The coughing continues so perhaps that is a contributing factor. Think I'd better get an early night cause we're going out tomorrow night...NYE and all.

Random quotage of the day -
Could we live it over again,
Were it worth the pain,
Could the passionate past that is fled
Call back its dead!

Well, if my heart must break,
Dear love, for your sake,
It will break in music, I know,
Poets' hearts break so.

But strange that I was not told
That the brain can hold
In a tiny ivory cell
God's heaven and hell.

[Roses and Rue - Oscar Wilde]

Music: Rock is dead - Marilyn Manson
Mood: Sleepy

So guess what...

...it's Whoniverse ramble time again.

Sometimes, I honestly don’t know why the Doctor/Jack don't just give up on this stupid planet. Attack after attack after attack, oh just take the stupid damn rock and be done with it! It must be very frustrating. Not as frustrating as those Daleks must be for the Doctor though, oh no, destroyed his entire planet and the bloody things are still around. I watched Utopia/Sound of Drums/Last of the Time Lords last night (possible Master kink, let’s not go there) and of course I watched ‘Kiss, Kiss, Bang, Bang’ and I can’t help thinking that this truly is an awful job. Jack has spent a year pretty much dying the whole time, made the decision to go back to the hub after years of waiting for the Doctor, only to arrive in utter chaos where a) everyone’s mad at him, b) he dies again, c) he has to deal with a psychotic ex, and d) he is expected to save the day. Now if I’ve just spent a year in an alternate time line being tortured and watching the world being destroyed, I would not be particularly pleased by this turn of events. In fact I’d be very tempted to say fuck this shit, and find myself a nice little planet that is not constantly being bothered by aliens. A nice peaceful little planet. Where clouds are actually fluffy. But I mean really, it’s so fucked up. Just think, you’ve spent a year thinking everyone you cared for was dead and it must be such a relief to return home and see them all perfectly fine, except they’re all annoyed with you. Then on top of this, and after all that turmoil you’ve just escaped from, you have to deal with this psycho ex situation who then completely strikes another huge blow at you, opening an entirely different world of emotional trauma. Because you haven’t suffered enough apparently [Actually, come to think of it, the suffering never really ends after he comes back. And I though we were being brutal with Eric]. Not that the Doctor ever gets off easy, I mean just look at the end of Season 4. He always ends up alone. He loses everything. Perhaps he should just take Jack with him, I mean once the team’s all died (which shouldn’t take too long at the current rate). After all, at least there’d be someone else who understood the loss and the loneliness, someone else who knew the weight of time. I mean hell, isn’t Jack technically older than the Doctor now? Oh oh, that reminds me of a completely different debate I was having with myself…if you are travelling with the Doctor, how do you even measure time? I mean sure, you can say you’ve been here three days or there two weeks, but they may not necessarily be equivalent to earth days, then you return to earth and it’s only two days since you left and you carry on with everything, having your birthday and whatever…but I mean, technically, you’re older than your birthday now, aren’t you? Just using the whole Master situation, that’s a year that’s been reversed, but it’s still passed. So Martha has to be a year older now, right? I'm assuming you continue to age even when travelling in time/space. Which means that let’s say she’s celebrating her 24th birthday or whatever, with all the time she’s been away, she’s actually older than that. Time travel…it’ll screw with your head. It’s probably why no one’s been working on it, they tried to work out of the logistics but it turned into a headache so they gave up. Shame too, one would think teleportation came before time travel, and I really wish we’d get there.

While I’m on this topic (when aren’t I on this topic, it’s consuming my life, bah!), I love this picspam simply for one of the captions, which reads "...gets snogged by dashing captains just before they piss off with time lords." For some reason, I find this endlessly amusing. I don’t know why! There’s no reason for it to be funny, yet it makes me glee. I'm an idiot.

I need a hobby…or is this my hobby? God, I am such a nerd.

Music: My sweet prince - Placebo
Mood: Bored

Then you're the fool, I'm just as well

Holy crap. I actually got in. I really didn't expect to. I don't know, I just kinda thought I'd try for this Honours thing cause it couldn't hurt, but I never expected to actually get in. Ah hell, now I'm actually going to have to put some serious work into uni next year huh? Damn my desire for further education! On the upside, postgrad will probably be a breeze after this.

I just need to enroll now.

Still compeltely amazed by this turn of events.

Oh, I got some good feedback on my final draft for screenwriting which is a relief, I had to revamp the whole thing and George seemed to appreciate it. He said it still sounds like a longer piece, which I guess isn't a bad thing seeing as it is a longer piece. Twenty two episodes longer I believe. Still, fucking agonizing as the whole screenwriting process is, it's nice to get some validation from someone who actually works in the industry and to know that hey, maybe we really are onto something here. Now to get back to writing the damned thing.

Blargh. I am so tired of coughing and phlegm. Gross I know, but it's the truth.

My dad's gone to the shops...I'm hoping he has a random flash of niceness and brings me back something. I'm starving. It's the least he could do after ruining my black jeans. GAH! Brand new too! I only got them just before I went away, all shiny and black and new. Now they look like they're five bloody years old. One wash, I don't know how he does it. I should probably just stop buying black jeans *grumble*

Now what should I do? I feel a bit restless. I can't settle down to watch a movie, can't settle to read, don't really want to spend the rest of the day in front of the computer after doing that yesterday...but any attempt to move leaves me feeling a bit drained. And to think mum's gone to work again today, poor thing.

Ah well, will think of something.

Random quote of the day -
Jack: Captain Jack Harkness.
The Doctor: Stop it!
Jack: Can't I say hello to anyone?

Music: Gives you hell - The All American Rejects
Mood: Shocked

Etched with marks, but I can deal

Prompt: This was spontaneously prompted by the following two lines - “The palest ink is better than the sharpest memory” [Chinese Proverb] and “I will follow you into the dark” [song by Death Cab For Cutie].
Characters: Eric Hayes (Amped), allusions to Kiley Marshall and Anthony Galvin.
Timeline: Shortly after the end of season 1
Word count: 446
Author’s comments: Another tortured Eric fic, oh the poor boy, stuck with an evil creator like me. Not that I’ve been alone in the creation of his demons, mind you. Still, I just had the buzz to do something a bit more introspective. ESM have gone off to record an album but he’s stayed behind, unwilling to leave uni when it’s the only thing that he’s held on to for so long. He was unable to actually explain this to Kill of course, so there’s a whole other level of angst to be had on her behalf. So he’s sitting around feeling conflicted, still longing for what he lost and for what he’s given up. I also just realise how appropriate this song is - “That face is tearing holes in me again.” Actually, I should do another one based on the last line of the song – “I’m holding on by letting go of you.” Hmmm *ponders*

***

This isn’t the first time.

My vices are all lined up. The drugs. The booze. The sex. It all comes back to one thing. Your face swims in my mind, blurred by an ever present guilt. With you, I was whole. I had a purpose. I had plans. You made me want it. For a moment, I saw the future and it was magic. The problem with magic is that it doesn’t last. It’s all smoke and mirrors and quick hands. I wasn’t fast enough. I missed a trick. Everything imploded. Everything but me.

Self destruction.

I kept going for you. That didn’t mean I had to enjoy it. Hell, I couldn’t enjoy it. There was nothing left in your absence, time stretching ahead to the precipe of a yawning cavern. In a way I followed you into the dark. Mine was just a living hell strewn with nameless faces, interchangeable scenes, and hateful flings…all just to accentuate the fact that nothing meant anything, and there was no consolation.

Then there was her.

A persistent image, both impossible and infuriating. Splashes of colour and life, threatening the careful boundaries I carved in order to justify my existence, to tolerate it. Something stirred and with it came the shame, the betrayal. Everything I had was tied to you. I lost myself. She found the pieces, and with it came dreams and inspiration. She made me want it. The edges of my existence glowed in technicolour. How could I let her get that close? There was meaning again, and it was dangerous. I had no right to want this. I didn’t deserve it.

I was right.

Your shadow lingers, I can trace the echo of it. It’s an unconscious move I have perfected in the years I’ve spent alone. She left when I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I can’t leave you behind. I can’t let go, and lose what little of you I have left. I also can’t hold her back. What would you say now, if you were with me and we were watching the disintegration of some poor lovelorn soul? Would you lean against me, shaking your head, and outlining the pros of just going for it? After all, you always were a hopeless romantic.

These thoughts tear holes through me.

I line them up metaphorically, logical and neat. The sex. The booze. The drugs. Not to think, not to feel, just to exist and forget that any of it is real. I knew you’d haunt me forever, welcomed it in fact, but I never thought I’d be haunted by another ghost of missed chances.

This isn’t the first time. I don’t have the strength to make it the last.

Music: Straitjacket feeling - The All American Rejects
Mood: Pensive

You cannot always be torn in two

I would kill for some Diet Coke right now. I blame Abs for this new found craving.

NCIS is on sale at JB Hi Fi for $24 a season. That’s a total bargain. Season 4 of Doctor Who is also on sale, $74. I just need to check if that’s in-store or online, then I shall acquire it with the money I set aside for the acquisition of a pair of Doc Martens. Oh well.

They showed Oxford Street on the news last night, feature on the post-Christmas sales and how British consumers are responding where the US ones are not. I sat there thinking 'Man, I was there not even two days ago, walking down that street, cursing slow walkers and thinking Exterminate! thoughts at young children, and laughing at the Storm trooper helmed, light sabre wielding animated moose in the Debenhams window display.'

Life can be such a bitch sometimes.

I woke up just before twelve today. I had an absolutely awful night. Considering I only went to bed at two the previous evening and was up again by 7, this somewhat surprised me. Still, there I was, still awake at 4am, unable to sleep due to coughing fits which now seem to be leading to extreme nausea as well. Finally, exhausted beyond belief, I just passed out. I do not approve of this kind of bullshit.

Meanwhile, it appears there will only be three Soundwave sideshows this year. Three! How lame is that. One has Anberlin and Chiodos, another Say Anything and Hellogoodbye. I was really hoping there would be a Billy Talent, or The Subways, or a Jack’s Mannequin side. Grumbles. Oh and The All American Rejects are touring with Fall Out Boy. I want to see AAR, but I hate the ACER and it’s so bloody expensive. Bah.

I find it very hard to muster any care factor at the newspaper today. Everything feels trivial somehow.

So, recapping my last few days in old London town. The day after the Stonehenge trip was sadly when I had to take my leave of the Lair and move into the Holiday Inn with the parents. This proved annoying as I had to cram all my stuff back into my backpack and trudge about the tube. When I arrived at hotel lobby far later than I ever intended (I was lazy and spent the morning in the Lair when I should have been getting ready to leave), the concierge laughed and asked “Tired?” Smart arse. Anywho, I left my bag in their care and wandered back out in the madness of Oxford Street, eventually meeting Abs for lunch, which would sadly be followed by our goodbye.

I was then meant to meet the parentals at Earl’s Court as they moved hotels, but as per usual they were unorganised and after sitting there for a while, staring at the Dalek flyers I thought, 'Fuck it, I’m here, I have a few pounds left, they are late, and it’s right there, I’m going to this Doctor Who exhibit'. My lameness factor went up another notch. May I just point out it was creepy as all hell since the place was utterly deserted and to get to the main exhibition area you have to walk through this concrete underground-esque area with the autons (aka crazy store dummies) from the first episode of the first season of the new series. I kept waiting for one to launch at me, which I assume was the point. I had the place pretty much to myself up until the end, when there appeared to be mainly children around. I’ll never understand that, as a child this show would have freaked the fuck out of me. Another especially creepy display was the ‘Blink’ one, as the room was dark with erratic strobe lighting and the psychotic stone angel, fangs bared arms outstretched, looming up as you turn the corner. The Dalek room had a warning for those of “nervous disposition” as well as a sign “Beware! Daleks!” I found this endlessly amusing. It was here that I purchased the Jack figure. Souvenir and all that jazz you know.

Unsurprisingly perhaps, the plans with the parents were now out the window, so ever the impatient child, I jumped on one of those open-top bus tours. I really wanted to do one of those so I was glad for the opportunity. I stayed on it for the entire two and half hour trip around the major tourist sites and realised that despite the non-touristy approach to my trip, I really had managed to see a lot of London anyway. Not only that, but I got to live London, the way Abbi does. And that’s really something irreplaceable and of which I’m truly grateful.

I did finally meet up the parents, and we went to see a musical which is something mum really wanted to do [Joseph, it was very strange and yet still rather boring to be honest - and I missed the season final for this?]. We also had Christmas dinner with my cousins and their girlfriends who happen to be in London at the moment [they are brothers, Francios is my age and is there until February when he goes back to university, while his brother is staying for a year]. I think it’s testament to how small the world has become in a sense when you can have a Christmas dinner with your family in a country miles from where any of you live. It was good though, we exchanged some small gifts, just for the spirit of it [They got me chocolate wafers which I absolutely adore and made good use of last night, good foresight there lol].

So yeah, I guess it all ended nicely in the end. As nicely as anything good that must end can.

In a strange way I feel like I’ve actually grown this trip. I know I can master my social anxiety to some extent; I can be social and am not nearly as awkward as I tend to think I am. There is hope for me yet.

Today, I am clearly useless for any purpose. Oreo has been curled up next to my bed since she was let in this morning, which is quite sweet really. Guess she missed me. She was well looked after, looking really healthy and happy when we picked her up yesterday, and it’s such a relief knowing she had a good “holiday” as well. So much better than the kennel business last time. Not that it’s the kennel’s fault; I think Oreo just needs a little bit more contact. She just likes being with people, lying next to you when you watch tv or whatever. Mum still has to reset all our electronic things like the dvd and the Wii after we had Foxtel IQ installed before we left, so until then I am stuck watching dvds on my laptop again…well as long as the laptop is co-operating which it thankfully is at the moment…it wasn’t that kind yesterday. So yeah, I think I might hole up here and watch…well, I’m sure you could guess.

Further updates as events warrant.

Music: The quiet things that no one ever knows - Brand New
Mood: Some semblance of awake

If you get caught out in the rain

I'm currently uploading the almost two thousand photos I took this trip. It raises some questions regarding my sanity and the level of my obsessions, while standing as clear evidence to my overwhelming lameness.

Consider for example the following of just some of the many random things I managed to take photos of :


Jack Sparrow


Gerard?





This one is especially lame of me -


I mean, really? Easily amused? Me? Oh no, not at all. Like I said, evidence of my lameness. And no forseeable change in sight. Ah well.

Keeping on with this trend, survey the bomb site that was my bed last night as I unpacked my latest acquisitions...



Notice the overwhelming presence of Doctor Who merchandise. There's the Season 3 dvds which Abbi got me for my birthday, as well as the top trumps cards. There's the Dalek socks I somehow aquired "for Christmas", a dalek flannel thing, and the Captain Jack action figure...couldn't resist. [I now have two Captain Jacks sauntering about my room. Beware of the Captains Jack, arrrr...god I'm losing my mind.]

Sometimes all I can do is shake my head at myself.

Also in evidence is :
- The pink/black reversible jumper I got from Camden (with thumbholes wooh!) that I realised I won't be able to wear for another four months at least. Epic sigh.
- The black and green Mat Devine gloves Abs bestowed on me, and of which I am unduly fond of.
- The Irish knitwear hat acquired at the Cliffs of Moher to prevent frostbite
- Tales of Beedle the Bard, Christmas present from Abs.
- Various books in various states of ill repair.
- A crazy sparkly thing that was given to me by a waiter in the Latin Quater of Paris for reasons still unknown.
- Blue leopard print tights
- Drawing post card things of London and Paris.
- Keychains from Amsterdam
- Playing cards featuring Roman mythology from Bath
- Earrings from Camden
- A beatles postcard, amongst others
- A degree in Scientology
- and a purse acquired from Debenhams, also "for Christmas".

All in all, I think things didn't shape up too badly at all.

In other news, so jetlagged it isn't even funny. Also still doing my best to cough up a lung...world record anyone? It's gotten worse, to the point where my muscles ache because of coughing too much. Bah, I say, bah.

Huh. It's storming like crazy all of a sudden. Ten days in London without rain, come home, not even twenty four hours later and it's pouring. Life's funny.

Music: The rain on the roof next door
Mood: Jetlagged

Reminders, they are not reluctant

Gah I was just stunned into silence by my desktop background, I’ve forgotten how beautiful it is.

So, evidently I have arrived home. Sydney, beautiful Sydney, sparkling in a perfect sunset and welcoming me back, forcing me to ask, could I really ever leave here? Got out of the airport into a warm westerly breeze, 26 degrees with just a touch of humidity…my body reeled in protest demanding “What.The.Fuck.” Poor thing, so confused.

This had to have been one of the easiest flights I’ve ever had. This probably has a lot to do with the fact that business class was deserted and there were almost two crew members for every passenger. So we got some serious personalised, first class service. Personalised meals, constant offers for cakes, wine, champagne, chocolates and food (please for the love of god, eat it, eat it, there’s too much!). To Singapore we only had to individual passengers travelling with us, in the back two corners, and to Sydney, two individuals in the front. This meant I could rummage around the overhead compartments whenever I chose and not feel bad about bothering anyone, stand in the aisles, and go to the bathroom as often as I want. Of course in business all the open seats don’t really make a difference space wise since you have what I like to call the egg chairs, but it’s still nice. The crew were totally all over you, and everyone was festive and chatty and it was just so relaxing. On the flight to Sydney one of the first class crew took it upon himself to walk up and down my aisle every few seconds to check if I was awake and when I finally suggested he could bring me coffee (after turning down his offers of a meal, toasted sandwich, crackers and I don’t know what else), he made me a cappuccino. Huzzah! I can only assume first class was deserted as well.

I’d like to think I have now completely mastered the art of time travel. It’s very bizarre though, it all feels like one day. As if I caught a taxi to Heathrow this morning wearing a Christmas hat and then caught another home tonight. Of course, an epic amount of time has been lost in the meantime but I just don’t feel it. It also really didn’t feel long at all. Twelve hours to Singapore, and I only watched one movie (The Rocker), attempted convincing the crew to show Doctor Who ("I have the dvds right here!") but they sadly could not oblige, and in general just tried to placate them – I think they were bored. I got a few hours sleep in too. Two hours on Singapore airport, back on the same plane, and seven hours home. Again, the crew appeared to be bored. They were quite put out that all we wanted to do was sleep…mum in fact slept the whole trip. I managed to watch The Incredibles, and got about a third into Capote before the landing rudely interrupted. I also got halfway through the Russel Brand autobiography Abs kindly gave me.

Upon arrival at Sydney airport, we just breezed through everything. Landed at 8.05, caught a taxi by 8.30 and arrived home by 9. Too easy. If only every flight could be like that, I could fly all, day every day.

Still, all my muscles ache and my face hurts like all hell thanks to sinus. Not helped by the fact that I’m still recovering from the stupid cold, and which I begin to suspect is lauching a second assault since my dad only just got it and is probably now re-infecting us all. Bah. The worst of this is sadly my ears, which thanks to aforementioned sinus and air pressure changes, appear to be verging on implosion. It huuuuuurts. But c’est la vie. I’ll live.

Three of my Paris drawings are missing. I am not amused.

I was just unpacking all my crap, and it’s disturbing that an overwhelming amount of stuff appears to be Doctor Who related. This has clearly been a Doctor Who themed holiday. I don’t mind one bit. Allons-y! Aw. Guess I can’t do that anymore. I took a photo of the loot, and will surely post it up once I’ve cleared room for the EPIC amounts of photos that were taken *shakes head*

I’m going to have to do a somewhat detailed recount of the last few days, if not the whole trip, but it’ll have to wait until tomorrow. I must attempt to beat the jetlag before it settles in. So, I’m going to have a shower, watch ‘Kiss, Kiss, Bang, Bang’ (revel in the Torchwood, revel!) and then drift off to sleep in my very comfy bed that’s missed me very much.

That all said, I had a really great trip and I miss Abs (and London) already. Come on people, get with the teleportation already! Failing that, anyone know where I could possibly acquire a TARDIS?

P.S.: Merry Christmas! Hope everyone managed to enjoy the day. I feel like I’ve pretty much skipped the whole thing this year…technically I guess I have.

Music: Miami - Taking Back Sunday
Mood: Desperately wanting shower

Whaaa?

Oh no....oh no no no no no. I'm missing the last episode! When am I ever going to get around to seeing it? Oh BBC, how cruel you are to me, ever so cruel. Woe.

Music: Theme music
Mood: Woe! Outrage! Woe! Annoyed! Woe!

Fall asleep with the windows open

Tonight is my last night in the Lair, and I'm honestly a little depressed about it. Which is kinda fucked cause now I'm going feel like I want to be in two places at once. I love Sydney, I honestly do. I miss my friends, and my dog, and my bed, and having more than seven t-shirts to wear, and the sun, and the city (it's vibe this time of year), and the way the light glints off the harbor in a way that always makes me stop and think I live in the prettiest city ever, ever y time, without fail. But I have had such a good time this week hanging with Abs, meeting her friends, experiencing London life as it were. I really enjoyed it, and I'm going to miss it. All the people I've met have been great, the things I've seen and done (and the city itself) have been interesting and exciting and vibrant and just...sigh. Another downside is of course I think I've actually gotten used to the climate, so now I'm probably going to roast slowly when we get back until I get used to that again. Such a no win situation. But lamenting the end of my absolutely gorgeous, irreplaceable stay here is not going to help. Still, thanks so much to everyone who made it so awesome. You all rock.

Speaking of rocks, went to Stonehenge today (bad segway, I know). The trip started obscenely early from the parental unit's hotel, so last night I decided to stay there instead and give Abs a bit of a break too since she was half dead, poor thing. Anyway, a little earlier we'd watched the Blink episode of Doctor Who and walking around Kensington in the dark with all it's hotels and their statues and gargoyles leering at you is probably not the best thing you could do. Freaky as all hell. It continued today actually when the tour stopped at Windsor Castle, and they have some really freaky looking gargoyles. Disturbing. I'm actually working myself up to watching the season four series final right now. I've been so on edge about this for months now, it's almost hard to go ahead and watch it. But back on the topic of touring....the way things have been going, you'd think I came here with the sole purpose of watching Doctor Who, and as noble a pursuit as that is, other things have actually happened. So anywho, Windsor Castle to Stonehenge to Bath. All of which is very cool. Impressive as Stonehenge is, it's not as big as I had imagined. It doesn't help that I keep seeing the Spinal Tap Stonehenge bit playing in my head -

David St. Hubbins: I do not, for one, think that the problem was that the band was down. I think that the problem may have been, that there was a Stonehenge monument on the stage that was in danger of being crushed by a dwarf. Alright? That tended to understate the hugeness of the object.
Ian Faith: I really think you're just making much too big a thing out of it.
Derek Smalls: Making a big thing out of it would have been a good idea.

My dad and I got into an argument not even halfway out of course. In the end he huffed "Why did you even come?!" I decided to not answer this question as the honest answer would have been "To see things, not to see things with you!" I think it's been made worse by my absence from his annoying influence. I do not know how my mother survives it. The jittery, indecisive, and yet still demanding and continually rushing behavior drives me mad. Now tomorrow I'm returning to it. Joy. AND he's off work until the fifth of January, just like me. We are going to kill each other. I guess I've been lucky. I've had a week that's actually felt like holiday, it's been perfectly balanced and I had a good time. I haven't been rushed or stressed or anything, which is rare for an overseas trip. I could easily do another week of this. Shame life isn't that kind.

That all said, I'll be back home being my nerdy, loser-y self again real soon. A blog and a ramble a day no doubt, and writing! Oh yes, there shall be writing.

Did I mention I passed uni? Got two credits and a distinction. Huzzah! (Although I'm still pissed at that useless genre writing tutor and his uncommitted approach to grading.) Now I just have to wait and hear about Honours, and if it doesn't work out, I guess I'll just have skip straight to post-grad course work. Will see soon enough.

There's so much really that warrants discussion, but I just don't know where to begin half the time and there really is just so much that it feels almost impossible. Certainly too impossible for right now...I have to finish packing all my crap again, blargh.

Music: Little Death - [+44)
Mood: A little sad

Every single one's got a story to tell.

There was a boy on the bus who looked like Billie Piper, just you know, male. I just felt the need to point that out.

Ah my parents *shakes head* Yesterday they finally got their act together and I met them at the station to go to the Wimbledon Museum. They have these pass cards that gets them into all the museums and major attractions (and covers their travel) so they've pretty much done every single tourist thing you can think of in this city. I, on the other hand, have been to Tower Bridge (so neeuug!...yeah I don't know what I'm doing either). Point is, my dad seems to have taken the "potential things to do" as a list of destiny, and is jamming in as much crap as he possibly can (he's been running around like a headless chicken, I feel sorry for mum cause she's pretty much as sick as I am). Clearly he is mad. Regardless, Abs had to go back to work so I figured I might as well tag along with them. So yes, the Wimbledon museum. It's as exciting as it sounds. Ok, I'm mean. It wasn't bad. It was pleasant, requiring minimal effort. Since it was still early when we finished, we headed into town because they wanted to go to the Cartoon Museum. The time we spent trying to find the place was longer than the time actually spent inside it. It's not very big, but it was rather cool. So, as there was more time to kill and it was right across the road, we went to the British Museum too. Took lots of photos of broken Egyptian statues and Greek vases. Clearly it was museum day. But anyway, it all worked out nicely in the end. I ambled about Oxford street and met Abs after work, much hanging out (and meeting and greeting) occurred. Fun was had.

This morning it was again dealing with the parents. I'm beginning to wonder how they get anything done. Apparently, after I left them yesterday, they yet again got on a train going the wrong direction *shakes head* And here I was thinking they could read. I was meant to meet them at Warwick Ave station this morning so we could go on a canal cruise. First it took them epically long to get there, in which time I managed to have hot chocolate and a twix, and then it was revealed that the cruises don't run in winter. Epic. Fail. I was not amused. So my mum then decided she wanted to go to the Wetlands reserve. I was undecided over this for a while, since walking around in the cold while I constantly verging on coughing up a lung didn't seem too smart, but I was talked into it in the end. We had to navigate the maze of Paddington to get to Hammersmith before taking a bus. It was all very random. In the end, I can't say I was too wowed by the wetlands. There are only so many times I can be impressed by a duck. I convinced them we wanted lunch, and then my dad decided he wanted to go to Twickenham. I sent them on their merry way. Our next excursion will probably be Monday, to Stonehenge, if they manage to get it booked. Wait and see, I suppose.

Sigh.

Tonight, we're staying in. The flu infestation has gotten the better of us *shakes fist* Tomorrow, Twilight movie and christmas party!

I really should have bought chocolate on the way back. Feeble brain.

Music: Seven Nation Army - The White Stripes
Mood: Sickly

So well rehearsed

I am meant to be out with the parents today but so far they haven't phoned me. I rang them this morning and mum said she'd ring me back...never to be heard from again. This is too much for my sick addled and sleep deprived mind to make sense of.

I do not want to leave the Lair. It's comfy in here.

I'm having a great time. It's random and awesome, and I'm not even doing touristy things. Abs took me on a quick tour of the West End, followed by The Mighty Boosh stage show at the O2. I get to put so many faces an experiences to names now.

I hate goddamn stuffy noses.

Ok parents have finally rung *schelps self off to do daughterly duty*

Music: About a girl - The Academy Is...
Mood: Blargh

I don't care what you think

As long as it's about me

Two things that are proving rather difficult with the DSLR camera is the near impossibility of taking photos at night without some serious setting adjustment, and managing to get the pics off the camera. They are just so huge. Oh well.

Things are going well here in the land of no sun. Despite this though, I have to admit I'm really enjoying London. Even when I am in perpetual fear of freezing my ass off. So far it's been good cause it hasn't been raining - nice change. Besides, it's not nearly as cold as Paris. Oh did I say cold, I meant fucking freezing.

This trip is going disturbingly fast. Well the days are, while on tour the nights were a bit hellish. Everything is however a blur. Amsterdam was insane, the thing that most stood out is the absolute death wish of the bicycles. They are deranged I dubbed them the suicide bikes. Germany was gooooorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. Switzerland was as always stunning and, yes, it was snowing. I nearly melted my shoe shoving it too close to an open fire in an attempt to regain feeling in my toes. Paris was just...Paris. I love that city, it's just so beautiful, especially at night. The alcohol consumption continued here especially with the incessant wine offerings. You know what they say, when in Rome... More detail on everything to follow (probably) but that's the quick overview.

We had the most psychotic bus driver getting back from Dover to London, I felt so sick by the end of the trip. Luckily Abs was there to meet me..and Nik! Which was a total surprise. Awesome, of course. The three of us met online and it's so weird to have us all in one place together. I am still half expecting the world to implode with Abs and I hanging out all the time. Anywho, she's been looking after me. We went to Camden yesterday which is so fantastically fantastic (yes, I appear to be running out of adjectives). I think my brain was a bit overwhelmed with it all - so much to take in! So much to want! I got to see all the infamous hang outs and such, like the strawberry flavoured beer and The World's End which is epically cool. Not hampered in anyway by the hot barman. This morning we went on a Beatles walk which was cool, mad American tourists and all. Oh and I had my first incident of celebrity spotting. So in short, all is well. Abs is currently at her work Christmas party so I watched POTC3 with her friend Barb Now everyone knows I am a crazy Pirates/Johnny Depp fan, but that movie is just so needlessly long. No wonder I haven't really watched it again. I just keeps going!

I'm feeling a little sick to be honest. A woman on the bus was sick so I'm guessing she's passed it around. Just stuffy nose and sore throat, coughing. Bah. Then again, when aren't I feeling sick. Stupid winter.

Everyone's been so good to me here and hanging with Abs is so amazing. I mean to finally be able to talk without having to rely on msn and hang out and flail and just get things..it's been great.

And of course, everything is sprinkled with liberal amounts of Doctor Who. And now I don't have to put up with the weird looks of the others on the tour bus when, in response to the tour director's french expressions, my cry of "Allons-y!" rang out at every opportunity. What can I say, I am lame like that.

Music: I don't care - Fall Out Boy
Mood: A bit sickly

The wind goes right through you, it's no place for the old

Well, well, what have we here?

Currently occupying a laundromat in some wayward street of Dublin waiting a) for machine to finish, and b) for another machine to open up to do another load. Wasted morning, hello. But I can't complain, I didnt even go down to breakfast this morning, I yelled at my parents for their incessant goddamn talking and then they left me alone while they went off by themselves. I stayed in bed half awake watching Magnum PI before having a shower and such, 8.30! Latest start yet. Touring is not kind to the late sleepers, and this Ireland tour was tame. Apparantly on the next one there are 6.30am starts. Joy.

Anyway, the tour itself was great. Yesterday was the last day and we came in from Galway to Dublin, coast to coast as it were. I love Ireland. It's gorgeous and freezing. I have too many photos of grass and clouds though. It was just really relaxerd and the majority of the group were a lot of fun, only thirty people on the tour so there was lots of room on the bus, and the hotels were really nice. I think it was probably a great way to start the touring experience, and we saw a lot. I'd love to come back one day though, probably to Dublin. It strikes me as a writer's city.

I've been in various states of intoxication during the tour though. Or at least it feels that way. Two years of sobriety washed away in a pint of cider first night out. And Guinnes. And Jameson. And wine. And Irish Coffee. And more Irish Coffee. And yet more Irish Coffee. The Irish, not surprisingly, really know their Irish Coffee. It is, in short, fucking brilliant. It just tastes better here. As does cream actually, and I don't even like cream. Bloody Irish, trust them to get me drinking again. I never had a chance.

So yes, today some shopping (have been good, so far only bought celtic knot earrings at our last hotel and a book of Irish fairytales...mostly because I don't have anywhere to put anything) and then tomorrow off to the airport again. I hope Dublin airport isn't as psycho with their security. Heathrow are nuts, really nuts. Then off obscenely early the next morning to Trafalgar's headquaters and on the way to Amsterdam. No rest for the wicked as they say. But I guess you don't fly 21 hours to sit around playing with your thumbs.OMG speaking of, the epic disaster that was getting here. First Bangkok airport closes down and chaos decends, then we have a three hour technical delay cause of the braking systems [during which time Sydney Aiport shows Aircrash Investigation, amuuuusing] then we have an aborted landing at Singapore and have to circle to finally arrive late at London, all a little worse for wear. At least I got to watch the Doctor Who special Voyage of the Damned a couple of times :D

I will do a more detailed blog at some point, probably when I get back, when I've got my head sorted out.

My parents are so getting on my nerves. And I have another week of room sharing and constant proximity before Abbi saves me. I do not know how I am going to sruvive. Think happy thoughts of impending Doctor Who marathon. It's so hard for me not to stop and flail over absolutely everything cause it relates to one fandom one way or another. Everyone on tour was like *groans* not again! I cant help it, fandom is my anti-drug. Anti-drug!

The barman at this hotel has the most fantastic cheekbones I have ever seen. It's something to behold.

Am I rambling? I am, aren't I? Sigh. Let's summurasise the trip so far - airlines are being less than co-operative; London is like Sydney only with worse weather; Abbi is Awesome (capital A); pubs are your friend; fingersless gloves are not the best thing ever; jeans are constantly wet; roaming charges are sneaky; hotel walls are thin; parents never shut up when you are trying to sleep; Ireland is gorgeous; and our tour director resembled Mr. Bean.

Now, time for a coffee methinks.

Music: The spin cycle of a washing machine
Mood: Amused

Alone in this bed, house and head.

Tomorrow at this time I will be on a plane, a third of the way to Singpore. It really doesn't feel that way. I have decided to go with jeans and a three quater shirt as well as my new wellington-ish boot things (that's a technical term). Oh and my jacket, of course.

I'm all packed and it's only 15kg. Which I think is pretty good for a month. Layering. Lots of layering. I've gotten my international student card which for the record, looks really dodgy, and everything is charged and ready to go. I'm still worried I'm going to finish this dresden files book long before I actually get to london and then have nothing to do, but then again, I hardly ever read while on holiday.

Oreo seems very happy at the foster family, she's spoiled rotten by the boys already. It's a relief to know she's actually enjoying herself and not sitting in some kennel pining.

I dropped the Firefly dvds off at Em's place since Roze wasn't home, Em wasn't there but her mum saw me puzzling in front of the mailbox trying to figure out how to fit it in there. I've never met Em's mum and I've always suspected she blames me for her downfall, but she seemed quite impressed with me. Possibly because I was still wearing my work clothes and looking professional. She probably doesn't realise who I actually am. Oh well. Since I couldn't see Roze, she couldn't give me my b'day present but she told me what it was just so I don't go out and buy it in the meantime - seasons 1 and 2 of Doctor Who. Yaaaaay! Sometimes I feel like I just ramble at my friends and that I'm being annoying, then they do super awesome things and get me presents related to my rambling. Which makes me feel like I'm not just, well, rambling. It's nice :)

Oh I need to clear my camera and not leave it here.

Ah NCIS *shakes head* That woman is so obviously the evil one.

Well I suppose this will be my last blog. I'll be posting as I can, rambling and such, but no promises.

Madness and mayhem to follow.

Music: Nails for breakfast, tacks for snack - Panic! At The Disco
Mood: Accomplished

Stars shining bright above you

There is music, and dancing, and laughing. Old friends mingle and others pretend to still have things in common. She's wearing that dress and acting nonchalant. The room is crowded but as she tips her head back and laughs, there's only this. You cross the room, she smiles as she welcomes you back into the circle of friends, but you don't notice. Instead, you take her glass and set it aside, taking her arm and leading her onto the dancefloor. A smooth, smoky voice starts up as you draw her close. Slowdancing, you cannot resist. You sing the words softly in her ear, breath ghosting across her cheek, both of you barely moving. There is laughing, and music, and dancing, and then there is this.

This is going to sound really random but I feel the need to say it. I am not a huge From First To Last fan, but for some reason I am always taken by 'Ride the wings of pestilence'. I just think it is a fantastic hardcore-ish song. It's got such an omnious feel to it and that bassline. I mean it's quite a disgusting song, but I don't know, something about it just appeals to me.

Sticking to the random tangents, here is another one of my impromptu Torchwood rambles. Today's topic, the subtle character placement in season 2. And by character, I mean Ianto of course. Look, it's not my fault he is so fantastic in season 2, now is it? Anyway, I just noticed it the other day watching 'A Day in the Death' and he's just...there. Overall, his physical presence is greatly pronounced in the second season. The subtlety with which the placement mirrors or supports Jack in most scenes is just dumbfounding. This is why I can't work in the whole screenwriting universe, all these tiny details that someone has clearly sat around and figured out, all of which is meant to add to the story visually (cause damn that infernal screenwriting and it's lack of rambling narrative, show dont tell *shakes fist*), is just something I'd completely overlook. Most of the time I am convinced of the dubious legitimacy of the show in general, but then there are these subtle things, production or whatever, that just completely blow me away.

My dad is watching Top Gear. I fear a pattern is emerging. Also, that show is nothing like I expected it to be....it's kinda insane.

Tomorrow is my last working day until the 5th of January. Woooh! Well, in principle it's "wooh!" I still have a bazillion errands to run tomorrow and packing to finish. Gah. I have no idea what to wear for the flight. I am perplexed by managing the weather shift. Also, I just realised how epically long this flight actually is. Nine hours to Singapore. Something like 12 from there to London. Three hour layover. Zombie like state seemingly inevitable. BUT business class. Hopefully *crosses fingers* Maaaan, business class, it's been far, far, faaaaar too long. And it's snowing in London. I feel woefully underprepared. I am going to die. If I don't come back, please avenege my death. Then again, it's not exactly been warm here either.

My Firefly watching is not going too well, only six episodes in. Dry humour is the damn best though. Wash and Jayne are just...gah.
Jayne: We was just about to spring into action, Captain. Complicated escape and rescue op.
Wash: I was going to watch. It was very exciting.
As they would say, shiny. Doubt I'll finish it by tomorrow though.

I saw a quote today - "lust is negligible when absent." It struck me. Apparantly it's from Maurice by EM Foster, which of course I haven't read.

I should be doing things. Sigh.

Stars fading, but I linger on, dear.
Still craving your kiss, I'm longing to linger till dawn, dear.
Just saying this: Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you.
Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you.
But in your dreams whatever they be, dream a little dream of me.

Music: Dream a little dream - Ella Fitzgerald
Mood: Weird

If I didn't care, would it feel this way

I'm stealing the proper header thing from Abs.

Prompt: "Between an immensity of land and an immensity of sky they sat there, incomprehensible, smiling at a continent."- Douglas Adams, Last Chance to See.
Characters: Phoenix Nesser and Quentin Mitchell (Soliloquy)
Timeline: Close to the end, before she heads to San Francisco.
Word count: 884
Author’s comments: I have no idea what I'm doing here. The prompt seemed to call for something nicer but I couldn't really come up with anything. Besides, Phoenix is going to settle soon so it is kinda optimistic in that sense. She's making peace with her lot, and things will get back to normal with Q and Jameson eventually. She just can't be around them. But yeah. It won't be anything like this when I FINALLY get around to writing it. For one thing, Soliloquy is in first person. I've noticed all my exercises so far have been third, which is probably good, I need the practice. Since I've discovered first person, I hardly ever write in third if I can help it.

***

Phee stood at the edge of the lake, staring across the calm water. A faint breeze freed a strand of hair but she ignored it, completely lost in thought. A figure emerged and made its way towards her. Quentin walked carefully, watching his feet, hands jammed firmly in his pockets. She seemed to feel his presence and her postured tightened. She stood straighter, seeming more rigid somehow. Phee made no overt move to recognise his presence, and kept her eyes trained on the horizon. He hesitated for a few moments, reading the subtlety of her body language that their years of friendship had well versed him in, and then moved to stand alongside her.
“Phee.”
He merely breathed the name and the wind took it and blew it across the water. The distant shore felt as distant as the girl next to him. She squeezed her eyes tightly, she seemed to be waiting for something but Q didn’t say anything more. Glancing at her passive face from the corner of his eye, he suppressed a sigh and turned his attention to the water instead.
Q didn’t understand the awkwardness that was now between them. He couldn’t understand how he could have been so stupid. He wasn't used to this Phoenix, the unreachable one, the one who was an expert at removing herself from others. He remembered the Phee who broke Luke Tucker’s fingers in the sixth grade after he tripped Q in the hall, or the Phee picking him up after a particularly rowdy house party that left him feeling drunk for about two days afterwards. He remembered a Phee that helped him memorize Shakespeare quotes for his exam, and who then yelled at him for not paying attention cause X-Men was on. Now he didn't know if he could still reach that particular version of Phoenix Nesser.
“Are you happy Q?” she asked, startling him out of his thoughts. He dragged his eyes up from the water to look at her, but she was still staring across the lake.
“I am. I really am. Well, I mean, I’d be happier if we....”
“Are you in love?”
“I…well…I don’t…” he stuttered, unsure of what the appropriate answer would be, and wondering if he even had an answer at all, let alone an appropriate one.
“Does he love you?” she asked quietly, interrupting again.
“I don’t know.”
Phee glanced at from the corner of her eye. The movement was quick and subtle, Q missed it completely.
“Why do this then? Why act on it?”
“I didn’t plan this you know.”
Phee sighed and closed her eyes again. Q took her hand and the simple gesture made her breath hitch slightly. It felt like everything was crushing down on her, suddenly and unexpectedly. Her hurt told her to pull her hand back but she was scared that letting go meant being lost in all this uncertainty.
This was familiar. This was how it was meant to be, how it used to be. When Phoenix was six, she tripped during a game of tag and skinned her knee. Q never left her side and he had held her hand while his mum cleaned the cut. At eleven, when she broke her arm, it was Q who was there for her. Then there was fourteen, where he held her hand all through the night after a particularly bad fight with her mother. Phee had always needed Q, and he had always been there. In fact, the only reason he had come to town in the first place was because she had needed him. All this had happened because he thought he should be around, just in case. She had raged and ran away, not once, but twice. She had hurt him, and used him, and still there he was, after all the madness, still holding her hand.
He squeezed her hand lightly and she returned the gesture.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. Phee finally turned to look at him.
She knew it was selfish of her. He had nothing to apologize for. But this time was different from all the others. It had always been her battles, her demons, and not his. He wasn’t just there to hold her hand this time, he had accountability. Phee needed to hear those words. It had hurt. It did hurt. But deep down she knew it wasn't his fault.
Phee leant into him, nudging him with her shoulder and nodding her head across the water.
“Still feels like the beach, huh?”
He smiled and nudged her back. “Always.”
“Tell me this is something you’ll be missing.”
“Always.” He repeated earnestly, meeting her gaze.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Q wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. They stood staring out across the water. Phee sighed and her posture changed again slightly, a resolute expression on her face. Q instinctively knew what the change meant and pulled her closer to him.
“Where are you running to this time?” he asked quietly.
“Wherever the first flight takes me.”
“Don’t go.”
“You know I have to.”
“I’m sorry.”
She sighed. "Feels like all we're doing is apologizing."
"But I am sorry."
“Don't be.”
They stood in silence as the last few traces of daylight faded from the sky. Then slowly, Phoenix extracted herself from under his arm. She pecked him on the cheek, and when he didn’t turn, she gave a faint smile and walked away.

Music: Claire de lune - Debussy
Mood: Tired

You took me over, take a look at me

Ok list time, things I still need to do:

- Watch Firefly
- Give Firefly back to Roze
- Email people
- Charge phone
- Charge iPod
- See Lizzie
- Pack (kinda)
- Clear photos
- See Em
- Hand in Honours proposal
- Get student card
- Send christmas cards
- Get SS gift
- Buy last minute stuff
- Take Oreo to vet

Gaaaaaaaaah *keels over* I haven’t slept properly in days. I have been more social in the last week than entire month. Brain malfunctioning.

Watched Waitress with Roze last night, we share a mutual appreciation of Nathan Fillion. It was good but the ending was far from satisfactory though. We had dinner in Newtown and wandered about. It was freezing. It is freezing. The seasons missed the memo where it’s meant to be spring.

Breakfast with Em this morning. She got me a Pandora bracelet and John Barrowman autobiography for my b’day. We now all have these Pandora thingies. She got me a little music charm too, quite cute.

So tired. Have to bath Oreo, vacuum, have shower, then go check out her potential foster home for while we’re away. I say potential but really it’s the only option so it’s a matter of sucking it up and getting on with it.

Oh and then I’ll watch Firefly when I get home around 8, so I guess I could get in what, 5 or 6 episodes before 2am? Tomorrow I’m up early to take the furball to the vet, then into the city super quickly before heading back for work. After work I have to finish watching the dvds, possibly go to Roze’s place, I don’t know. Tuesday is my last day of work, then I’m out with Lizzie, then I have to stop by Roze’s place if I hadn’t already to drop off the dvds and pick up my b’day present and then go home and definitely finish packing. Arguments and nervous breakdowns to ensue, no doubt. On Wednesday it is drop off Oreo at woman’s place and then probably head to the airport. Fuck. Going away is hard.

Music: Next to you - The Offspring
Mood: Busy, busy

The night is too beautiful to fear the uncertainty

"What are you doing?"

There is light in the dark. Tiny pinpoints from unmentionable distances away, blinking and dancing in galaxies whose names I don’t remember. It takes forever and a day for the light to reach us here, and by the time we do see it, as soft words are carried away on a summer breeze, that star could already be dead. Burnt out, snuffed out, extinguished, and gone, beyond recall. Distance and time, such fragile concepts. Both have a mind of their own, sentient manifestations within my own soul. Sometimes far too quick, sometimes agonizingly slow. Never the way you wanted it at the time. Retrospection. We never know what we need until we look back on it. We never fully appreciate the inestimable layers found in a day; a normal, every day. We never fully appreciate beauty until it’s gone.

It grounds me. I spin until I fall in the tall grass, itching but not moving, dizzy but not caring. I imagine I can feel the world turn, see the world turn. I watch the horizon, the curve of the earth. I climb onto the roof and watch the light changing. Azure, light magenta, persimmon, vermillion, champagne, sapphire, midnight, salmon, fandango, ice. Nothing stirs. I am a speck. Another soul, uncertain and misguided. A grain of sand on a beach. A bubble in the ocean. Life moves around me. I am insignificant in the face of three hundred and sixty five (and a quarter) rotations. Inconsequential at twenty three (and a half) degrees. The changing of my moods is infinitesimal to the changing of the seasons, but we all wait. Waiting for revolutions. Waiting for reasons. Waiting for equinoxes. Waiting for understanding. And you.

There is nothing. I am nothing. Nothing other than this. Sleepless nights under a canopy of distant light, the sighing music of the wind. Nerve endings like violin strings. The ghost of a touch across the tension. Deep breaths and tingling skin. Steal my breath. Break my heart. Tangle in my senses. Give me an impression of being in this world. It’s there, in the pale moonlight, in the death throes of a twinkling star. Waiting for this moment to be taken. Feel it in the turn of the earth, feel it under your feet. Swallow it whole and never look back. I am nothing. This is nothing. And it is perfect.

"Loving every breath of you."

Music: Gorecki - Lamb
Mood: Drained

I'm a fool for you

Okay, writing prompt exercise numero duos. It be this picture -

The piece doesn't really adhere to it strictly, but the underlying principle is the same. This time it features some of the cast of Soliloquy - Phoenix Nesser, Jameson and Zildjian Wright, and the random Tate twins who I namedrop whenever it suits me. Word count at 477.

***

Phoenix stood at the glass doors, staring out at the pool beyond. Jameson lay next to the edge, lazily trailing his hands through the water, while Michigan Tate floated along on the water lounge. Her unbelievable blonde hair, which had no right to exist outside of a shampoo commercial, fanned out around her like a halo as it seemed to trap the sunlight. Michigan’s twin brother emerged from the far end of the pool, blinking water out of his sleepy blue eyes as he shook his head like a wet dog. It earned him a splash as reprimand but the action only made him smile widely. Phee shook her head. The word impish came to mind.
“What is this? A halfway house for misguided celebrity offspring?” she muttered, narrowing her eyes as Jameson propped himself up on one elbow as Michigan floated closer to his side.
A snort behind her made her turn around. Zil was sitting at the dining room table, arching an eyebrow over the piece of paper he was holding up.
“Pot. Kettle. Black.”
“Where did you learn to talk like that?” she asked, casting another look at the pool.
“TV. Shocking, isn’t it?”
Phee threw a grin at him only to find him focused intently on the paper again. She sighed and moved closer to glance over his shoulder. The dark wood table was barely visible under the sheaves of paper, all covered in what ranged from scribbles to random detailed images to what looked like storyboards. Phee moved a few around, picking one up to study it more closely.
“You’re making a comic book?” she asked, surprised.
“Graphic novel.”
“That’s very um –”
“Nerdy? Yeah, I know.”
“I was going to say awesome.”
He looked up and grinned at her, and she returned the gesture fondly. There was a smudge of graphite on his left cheek but Phee didn’t say anything. It suited the boy somehow. He turned his attention back to his work, blonde hair falling into his eyes as he bent closer to his creation. Oh yeah, she could see him as an artist. An artist and a heartbreaker, given a few more years. Just like his brother, she mused, only with more introspection and less swagger.
Her eyes followed the natural progression of her thoughts out to Jameson who was now making a show of diving into the pool. He cut through the water smoothly, sending out ripples across the surface. The metaphor didn’t escape Phee; after all Jameson sent little ripples out around him with his every movement. Or at least he did where she was concerned. She watched him resurface and he caught her eye, grinning and tilting his head back in a clear invitation.
“Such a sucker for a sweet talker,” she murmured under her breath. With a sigh, she stepped out onto the deck.

Music: Supermassive Black Hole - Muse
Mood: Caffeinated

Come on now listen to reason

I've been trawling through the Torchwood/Who fandom as of late, as if that wasn't blatantly obvious, and it just astounds me. It's a really bizarre thing, and not in a bad way. It's just...different. There seems to be a level of respectful differing of opinions and just an overall accepting vibe about the whole thing, which is so completely different from any fandom (well ok. bandom) I have ever observed. That said, there is an awful lot of oversimplification and reading too much into things. I am such a lurker. What can I say? It's kinda like people watching, except with words. I like studying the way people talk, when commenting or whatever, the use of words and language and such. It's like...research. Maybe I can write convincing character voices cause I study how people "talk". I do this in RL too, I'll sit and eavesdrop on random conversations. Write down an interesting line or observation. That's right, I am the creepy person in the dark corner at Starbucks.

Anyway, if I had a point, it escapes me. I think it comes down to the fact that I simply like knowing things *points to self* I am a sponge.

I just had to drive to work to get my notebook which I stupidly forgot there. Idiot.

My mind is a quagmire. I have had barely any sleep for the last few days. Last night was especially bad. One would think, when you are already exhausted, you wouldn't have so much trouble sleeping. This thought however merely tries to lull you into a false sense of security cause in my case, it is blatantly not true. The worst part is that when I finally fall asleep at 3, I wake up again all the time and there is this lapse in time where I don't know if I am actually awake or dreaming. I hate that. My eyes are burning. I am on my fourth cup of double strength coffee for the day.

Speaking of coffee, I wish I knew who to complain to because the quality of caffeine based refreshment in this household has gone steadily downhill ever since that atrocious Tefal Quick Cup appliance made an appearance. Dead convenient though it may be, I feel no one is putting enough effort in to making coffee anymore. Coffee is the reason I get up in the morning, without coffee, Jen as we know her ceases to exist. Suffice it to say Jen is not amused. It's fine when I make my own coffee as I fiddle with everything until it seems right, but when my dad makes it, it's just blaaaargh. Which sucks cause he used to make really nice coffee. I suspect the main problem is he has lost the ability to stir properly. So when I take a sip and come to the conclusion there is no sugar in it, and I am too lazy to get up, merely drinking it the way it is until I get to the bottom and nearly die as a mutated sugar lump very slowly moves to attack me, I am forced to heave a sigh of impatience. My mum on the other hand does not understand the delicate balance between milk and hot water. I don't say anything cause then I'd be forced to make coffee all the time for everyone, and I'd rather not. Perhaps I should start taking it black with no sugar? I am subtly urging them back towards the use of proper coffee, like we used to have. We went through a faze with it, I don't know why it suddenly disappeared. Hmmm coffee beans.

Enough of my addict behaviour.

God I have so much to do. I haven't done anything I was meant to do before going away. Things like lose weight, or develop muscle definition, and save money. Sigh. I frustrate myself sometimes...most of the time in fact.

Music: Hey Hey Disbeliever - The Living End
Mood: Exhausted

Convexed you bend, twist and shout

*chews nails* I cannot get a fucking kennel to take Oreo for a month. It's driving me mental and my dad is nagging about it which of course makes it ten times worse. Grumble.

I saw Quantum of Solace with Lizzie yesterday. Made of win. It's the shortest Bond film made so everything was happening pretty fast. I loved the chick drenched in oil, recalling the chick painted gold from Goldfinger. Classic stuff. Besides let's face it, James Bond is just the coolest. I am hard pressed to find someone overall cooler. And he is sexy. I know lots of women think it's chauvinistic or whatever, but it's James Bond. Who cares. The new franchise is remaking a lot of Bond convetions though, not that I mind. Sometimes conventions just make things stagnant and predictable. He wasn't even double crossed by a girl in this one...and she could so look after herself, well for most part, which is a change. Oh, and I loved what they did with the Martini scene. Sigh. Bond is getting his cred back. It's fantastic.


(I love that shot, the suit and the gun coming over the hill is just gaaaaah! It is not however in the movie. Denied.)

I then headed over to Roze's place since we were all going to dinner. She decided it was my b'day dinner, I had little say in the matter. Em had just gotten back from Brisbane, so everything was a bit crazy. Anywho, ended up at a nice little place at Brighton. Windy as fuck, which didn't deter us from an evening amble around the beach. Was freezing though so it didn't last long. I was being a pest with the new camera...which it was decided needed a name. Never settled on one though since we have the attention span of fleas and kept getting distracted by silly things. It was very amusing though. I ate far, far too much. We always get way too much food that we share and it always ends in tears. After that Em and I frustrated Roze with our laziness (hilarity ensued) before we went to VideoEzy and back to Roze's wonderfully comfortable couches. I was exhausted so I only stayed for one movie - Thank you for smoking, with Aaron Eckhart, which I've been meaning to watch for ages. It was good *thumbs up*



Getting home was a nightmare. The M5 was closed so I had to take the surburban route and Forrest road was just at a standstill. It took me like 45 mintues to get home where it usually takes me 15 at the most. All the while an EPIC storm was building, so as I was driving along it began pouring and the lightening started up in earnest...always fun and games.

Oh and here it comes again. Joy.

Currently trying to figure out what sort of reference list I can attach to my honours proposal. I just dont understand how I can really reference something when it's a writing proposal. Siiiigh. Oh I know, I'll steal the references from my Genre Fiction reader. Mwahaha.

Ugh.

Music: Monster - The Automatic
Mood: Stressed

With every mistake, we must surely be learning

The first of my new writing exercise regime.

The prompt for this was the following line from Hey Jude by The Beatles (of course) - The minute you let her under your skin, then you begin to make it better. It features Eric and Kill from Amped, and comes in at 844 words. It's probably not the best, but hey, practice makes perfect (and for those who don't know, no, I don't write mindless romantic dribble, there's some real shit going on in Amped, but this is just a snippet of a bigger whole...all these exercises will be like that, I am more trying to just write as opposed to actually convey an entire story in a few hundered words, so yeah, just keep that in mind.)

***

How did things come to this? When exactly did he let things get so out of his control that he ended up punching some or other tour manager and standing in the flowerbed outside a label party? Eric wished he knew.
Another wretch from the girl next to him distracted him from his thoughts and he turned to her, rubbing soothing circles on her back as she doubled over. He didn’t bother masking his concern as Kill shook with the force of her body exorcising the litres of Snakebite she’d downed during the night. Her hair fell haphazardly across her face, sticking slightly to a pale cheek. Eric noticed her hair was getting longer and more dishevelled. They were all going that way. There was hardly time to sleep on tour, let alone maintain hairstyles. Of course Phoebe had been threatening to tie them all down and shear them, but Tyler had been a little too keen on helping and no one really wanted to let him near a pair of scissors if they could help it.
He smiled at the thought and almost unconsciously brushed the stray hair behind her ear. He liked it that little bit longer. It made her seem more fragile somehow, like someone who might actually need him. Kill’s eyes snapped open at the motion, and when she looked at him, it was both grateful and angry. There was something else too. Something that made his stomach tighten but he quickly suppressed it, forcing himself to deny he even saw it in the green depths of her gaze in the first place.
He looked away quickly and she straightened. Yeah sure, she needed him. She needed him like he needed Tyler’s Metallica binges when he had a hangover.
“I don’t get you Hayes,” she said quietly. He titled his head slightly at the sound, but didn’t turn to face her. He could imagine her perfectly, outlined in the haze of the not-quite-full moon surrounded by trampled flowers, with her hands on her hips and her eyes narrowed.
He couldn’t do this. Not to her. He didn’t deserve it, and she certainly deserved better. If he turned around and met that gaze, the one that was always searching and which always seemed to see too much, he wouldn’t be able to turn away, and he knew that he should. He was broken and a part of him didn’t want to be fixed.
He scrunched his eyes and tried to hold onto the feelings, the loss and the guilt that kept him up so many nights. It was too easy to forget things when he was with Kill, too easy to want to be whole again. He sighed and opened his eyes only to find her standing in front of him, concern outweighing the wealth of emotion in her eyes. God, she had such honest eyes.
“Are you ok?” She touched his arm and he started, backing away from her. Kill immediately brought up her defences, fire in her voice again as she stared him down.
“What do you want from me?” she spat, hand on her hip just as he’d imagined it.
Eric opened his mouth to respond only to find he had no witty reply, no sarcastic observation to hide behind. He tripped over his words and cursed his overenthusiastic alcohol intake which was no doubt to blame for this entire fucking mess.
“I – I want to love you.” The words tumbled out on their own accord and as Eric heard them cutting through the night, he blinked in surprise to find that they were in fact his. Kill stared at him, a mirror of his own reaction.
“I want to let myself love you,” he said again, barely more than a whisper.
She shook her head, slowly, as if rolling the phrase around her head. She didn't take her eyes off him before she moved, closing the distance between them again.
“You don’t know what you want, do you?”
Eric dropped his eyes to the floor as he gave a barely audible reply. “I wish I did.”
Kill said nothing. Instead, she took his hand and squeezed lightly. He stared at their hands for a second before he laced his fingers through hers. What was it about his girl that always put him so off his guard? She was determined to break through his best defences and he wanted to let her through. But he knew where that would end. Still, the basic human contact, the comfort of being touched, of being cared for…it felt better than he was willing to admit to himself. It all came down to basic risk assessment, and he was far too drunk to make any proper decisions.
“We should get back to the van” he said finally.
“Yeah, we should.”
She shivered and Eric extracted his hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She smiled up at him, wrapping her own around his waist. Together they walked down the sloping driveway and into the night, neither one saying a word.

Music: I've just seen a face - Jim Sturgess
Mood: Busy

Moving at the speed of light

Whyyyy do I do this to myself? It's this epic circle of doom - I barely sleep, I'm tired all day, I only fully start feeling like functioning again around 8 which then leads to another night of barely sleeping...and on and on it goes until I eventually spend an entire weekend crashed. But shaking off the cobwebs of sleepiness as best we can, and moving on.

My green slip and registration forms came today. Woe. Cue the slide into finance-induced depression. I knew it was coming, I was desperately trying to save enough money to cover this, Oreo's accomodation, my bills and spending for my trip (cause really, not working for six weeks kills me). But somewhere along the way the best laid plans were forgotten and I'm totally fucked. So I have to put this and Oreo's stuff on the fucking credit card of dooooom, which I've been trying so desperately not to use this year because I find it disturbing that someone who is not even 21 can have such a credit card debt, but I have no choice now. I need to get a loan so I can pay that thing off. They're evil. I pay my ass off at it and it makes barely any difference on the main amount. It's the most futile thing ever. Sigh. Guess there's no point getting all woe about it really, won't change anything will it? Just...leave it and worry about it when I get back. I'll do some epic saving and just pay off all the crap. Only downside is that with the state things are in, I probably won't be able to go away next year. Grumbles.

But whatever. Let's not pontificate on what may happen in the future.

I think in the new year I might get a job as a tutor. Or advertise my services as one anyway, I'm even qualified. I always forget about it.

I've decided I'm going to start doing writing exercises. Just to keep life interesting and my brain ticking over. Let’s say one a day. Various lengths (probably mostly short bits) for either new characters, or my regular cast. I’ll post em up here so they don’t languish on my computer like most of my stuff does currently. I’ll be using various prompts kindly supplied by trusty google. To be tagged under writing:exercise or something like that. Kinda like being in uni...but not. But hey, if they keep making us do it, maybe they're on to something. Can't hurt at any rate.

Tomorrow if all goes well, I'll be seeing Quantum of Solace with Lizzie. I've been stupidly excited for this movie.

Oooh I've got one hell of a short fuse today...my dad is taking perverse pleasure out of provoking me, and I'm stupidly taking the bait, every freaking time. Sigh.

Music: Forever - Chris Brown
Mood: Bitchy

The streets of town were paved with stars

Remember me as a time of day

My brain is exploding with things I cannot say. It's pulsing and twisting, and if I could see it, it would be flashing like a Christmas tree. Appropriate for this time of year. Ideas need to be put to paper, fleshed out, but I feel like I can't keep up, and it'll fade in the light of day. I will wither away and this will mean nothing. At least, that's what the cynical voice keeps trying to say. But I refuse to accept that.

I'm starting to develop ambition for this course I never plotted.

I'll write you a universe, complete with starry night skies in dark blue hues; summer heat and thunderstorms; or ice on all the roads. There is beauty, and angst, and lust, and love, and loss. There is life to be had in fiction - more complete, more fulfilling, more unique, and perfect. Wrapped in imagery, dappled in poetic license, breathing ink and punctuation. Thousands of possibilities, so many ideas swirling and building and fading in and out like a hazy radio signal.

Who knows, maybe one day it'll matter. Maybe one day it'll all make sense. But that doesn't matter. Just this. The night, the cold, the caffeine, the thought of having to go to work in 6 hours when all you want to do is stay awake all through the night bathing in this state of mind. It's all that matters. These brief flashes of feeling alive; when it is perfect, my mind is perfect, my detactment, my anxiety, my lack of normality - it is all perfect, it is all necessary, it all fits. Dysfunctional, sure. Impractical, hell yes. But feeling completely and utterly alive.

Music: A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square - Nat King Cole
Mood: Still creative

Life goes easy on me, most of the time

No love, no glory. No hero in her skies.

This song is gorgeous. Completely and utterly gorgeous. It makes me want to write a story around it, and to wrap it in the emotion, the imagery, it evokes.

I wonder if I should write something for the Anthology. Having never read/looked at the Anthology, I have no idea what they're after. But maybe that's a good thing. Cobble something random together.

It would probably be about immortality. It's something that fascinates me, and it's a subject that lends itself to a variety of interpretations and approaches. Currently, I'm more whimsical and lost in imagery, I'd have to go for something channeling a more 'Existentialism on Prom Night' type of mood.

I wonder sometimes whether my lack of concern regarding my aloof approach to life should be a problem. Shouldn't I care about these things? All evidence suggests that I should. And yet...only conclusion I can draw is that whoever wired my brain did a pretty dodgy job.

Speaking of, is it just me or is humanity slowly sliding towards a 'Gattaca' universe? One day we won't even die any more, brains will be transplanted into jars or something.

I saw this scribbled somewhere the other day and rather loved it -
Who is it that fascinates you?
Who is it that knows you better than yourself?
Who is it that will be waiting here with all ends at the end of the path
with a smirk and a sarcastic comment and a kiss on the mouth?
From 'A plea to the dying' by Emilie Autumn (who is apparantly a singer, although I can't say I've ever heard anything by her/of her even, but I am a sucker for classically trained musicians and believes this defintely calls for further research).

Completely unrelated - money woes. EPIC money woes. Rather worrying seeing as I'm going away in less than two weeks. As always, I fail spectatcularly *headdesk*

Sigh.

I'm half wacthing Almost Famous. It's on, but I'm not completely paying attention. Clearly. I do love it though : "That's because we're uncool. And while women will always be a problem for us, most of the great art in the world is about that very same problem. Good-looking people don't have any spine. Their art never lasts. They get the girls, but we're smarter...great art is about conflict and pain and guilt and longing and love disguised as sex, and sex disguised as love...the only true currency in this bankrupt world if what we share with someone else when we're uncool."

There are things I should be doing, stuff I should be writing, a life I should be living. Well, perhaps not at this time of night...but the theory is sound. I should probably start taking more chances.

Better a wrecked life than a life so aimless,
Better a wrecked life than a life so soft;
The ominous west glooms thundering, with its fire
Lit aloft.

[from Pastime - Christina Rossetti]

Music: The Blower's Daughter - Damien Rice
Mood: Creative

Spinning on that dizzy edge

God, I am so lazy. Have the makings of a headache but this is what comes from sleeping all morning and spending the rest of the time on the couch watching dvds. It was good though. Lizzie and I are fast becoming experts at this.

Got home after shopping with Em and Roze yesterday post work to find this waiting for me


My parents got me a DSLR camera. It was completely unexpected, I just gaped at it. It's the Canon EOS 1000D. I've just taken a few random shots so far, and it's so quick and clear and fantastic. Now I just need to figure out what all the buttons do. But yes, totally unexpected - am spoiled brat. Although my father is already trying to reappropriate it for himself. No surprises there then.

Music: Just like heaven - The Cure
Mood: Exanimate