And you're so crazy

Hmmmgh the smell of freshly brewed coffee *inhales* I stopped at Gloria Jeans this morning and bought some fresh coffee and my dad has just brewed it. The entire house smells gorgeous now *goes to happy place*

Speaking of happy places, my dad is the worst influence. I clearly know where I get my insanity from. He encourages my exceptionally nutty endevours with a particular brand of exasperated glee, while still continuing to mock me for it. He called me over earlier to check staff travel flights to LA for a weekend. Good availability and I could come back on the A380. Business class, none the less. My mother was all sighs and muttered don’t-encourage-hers. So all in all, really not helping me contain myself there, dad. After all…I don’t even need a visa! It’s too easy! Seriously, the whole trip can be done for $1,500 (including food and such). Which all things considered, isn’t too bad. Insane, yes. But not bad.

I could actually do this, you know. If I put the tickets on the dreaded card of doom. Neither of my parents are willing to come with me – dad says its too much, mum can't get off work. Abs has the same problem, and Lizzie’s saving for her trip (which is what I should be doing). Above all else, it is of course completely fucking insane. I cannot stress this point enough. Have I gone mad? When you realise that something is completely and utterly crazy and yet you feel the need to do it anyway? Or is that more sociopathic? I just want the option. That's all really.

Sigh.

Someone slap me.

Music: Shiver me timbers - Mercy Mercedes
Mood: Plotting

Here there be monsters

I spent most of yesterday sorting out the EPIC MESS that was my favourites folder. It was both amusing, frustrating, and perplexing. I often found I had no idea why I had even bookmarked some of this stuff in the first place - for example a search for "non-isometric" on Deviant Art. Um, what? I have serious issues. Abs can attest to this since I was clearly a bit loopy by 2am and was declaring my evil overlord status and doing the [virtual] can-can. It's all fun and games until your head explodes.

I did however discover the joys of iGoogle. And all the favourites are also adequately culled and back in nice folders now. It's sort of sad how content that makes me. Organisation my old friend!

A pressing question came up as I was doing this - does everyone in the entire universe have Twitter? I had an account but much like the myspace trend, I appear to be missing something. I find it funny considering I used to bombard my facebook status, then I decided to pull back a little since I figured people didn’t actually want to know when I was putting on my shoes. But things like Twitter are built around the notion that yes, it would appear that people do indeed want to know this...or that at least you want them to know it. Isn’t that just a teensy tiny bit narcissistic? Then again, I have a blog. I am under the delusion someone might care to read every miniscule rambling detail of my insignificant existence (which I realise is not what blogs were originally created) that I so eagerly record. So hey, perhaps the 21st century is destined to be the age of the narcissist.

Torchwood: Children of Earth will air in America on the same day as the UK, meaning American audiences will have almost no lag time in seeing the series. [from here]

Oh, and what century do you think us lonely sods here near Antarctica will get it? No one cares? Ah. Surprise.

I hate everywhere else.

You know what’s funny, I started this whole prompt/flash fiction business to spur on my creative productivity. Then Abs picked it up, and everyone then picked it up from her. So pretty much everyone has done more flash prompts than I have…and I’m the one who began the whole thing. Funny how life works sometimes. I really must get into that and stick to it *shakes fist at self*

“To be nobody but yourself-in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you somebody else-means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting.” [e.e. Cummings]

Ha. I read the strangest review of 'Folie a Deux' in the Sunday paper the other day, it commented on the fact that there were guest artists along the lines of “Elvis Costello, and Panic at the Disco’s Brendon Urie.” As if it’s strange that Brendon should be on a FOB record. I wouldn’t have thought it even needed mentioning.

Today I purchased the first season of Life on Mars (the real one) for it was on sale. Give me a sale, and I shall entertain my whims without second thought.

I think I'm going on a road trip to Palm Beach on Wednesday. Should be interesting as long as I don't get us all killed in a fiery car wreck. Still, any adventure is better than none at all I suppose.

Music: Red Right Hand - The Arctic Monkeys
Mood: Nerdy

Still waters run deep

$2439 for tickets, with the staff discount, it should come in at little over a thousand. Take tube to Victoria, then National Express (£18, easy). Hotel for two nights. It's *counts on fingers* about six weeks off...so that's little under two thousand's worth of pay. So somewhere I'd need to get at least another thousand. Then we're good to go. Two 20+ hour flights in the space of four days? Sure why not. Clearly sanity has nothing to do with this. Although all things considered, it would be cheaper to stick to the LA delusion.

Ah the joys of my imagination and internet booking forms...whyyyy can't I actually do things like this? And what's even more painful is I can actually get straight flights! No connections! I loathe connections so, so much. I never want to get off the damn plane, I'm usually just nice and comfy when they make me collect all my crap again. Bah.

My impulsive side is in overdrive. I feel two minutes away from running off to the first thing that takes my fancy (I'm someone who would probably have run off to join the circus as the stories go). It's both impractical and unaffordable. The fact that I am hampered in my desire to run wild and free by a lack of funds is beyond frustrating and annoying. I don't want to be a controlled by this! I want to go and be and do. I want to be an obsessive nutcase, because being an obsessive nutcase is FUN. It's interesting. It's entertaining. It adds spice to life if you will. After all, life is boring without little things to get you sidetracked. I want to indulge them, is that really such a terrible thing? It's times like these that I cling to the Chemical Holiday - proof that it can be done. It was mad and obsessive and needs to occur more often.

Sigh. As Scar would say, "Life's not fair, is it?"

There is this car that drives past work that sounds exactly like a TIE-Fighter. Add this to this one construction truck that sounds like the TARDIS when stopping at the lights and I work in a bloody space port.

***

Mercutio: We waste our nights in vain, like lamps by day.
Take our good meaning, for our judgement sits
Five times in that ere once in our five wits.
Romeo: And we mean well in going to this masque,
But 'tis no wit to go.
Mercutio: Why, may one ask?
Romeo: I dreamt a dream tonight.
Mercutio: And so did I.
Romeo: Well, what was yours?
Mercutio: That dreams often lie.
Romeo: In bed asleep, while they do dream things true.
Mercutio: O, then I see Queen Mab has been with you [...]
Romeo: Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace! Thou talkest of nothing.
Mercutio: True. I talk of dreams;
Which are the children of an idle brain,
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy...

Music: The hum of the airconditioner
Mood: Envious

You're quite a quiet domino, bury me now

I've spent the last thirty minutes entertaining the brilliant idea of going to LA for a weekend in February. It was mad, and spur of the moment, and it was beautiful. Really, truly, beautiful...if completely impractical and impossible to make work. I swear I got an adrenaline rush just plotting it all out. Damn reality. What does Adler say? To dreamers, reality is unreal? Damn straight (yes, I believe I have taken it completely out of context but hey, I'm a BAComm graduate, I make my own damn context).

Sigh.

Nothing ever happens in this country. We always have to cling to the tiniest things, the bands who tour here after years of waiting, the miniscule little attendances that are extended over oceans. I realise we're quite a far way off, but it's not like it's hard to travel. No one is asking anyone to take a three month cruise to get here. Indulge us!

***

"Dance with me," breathed the shadows, wrapping tendrils around our limbs. We sway on the strings of our puppet masters design, brranches weathering a storm as walls close in around us.
“Smile for me," whispered the twilight, ghosting a touch over cheeks. The night folds around us, stealing breath and stunting speech.
"Give in to me," called the darkness, gentle caress from lovers' lips, "Let me slow dance inside your nightmares, and never stop to think."
Wrapped in the arms of the only thing we understand, the path to our own hearts, the constant ebb and flow of epiphanies that linger on the edge of tongues. To breathe and see nothing but a dark night, and a spotlight on our slow movements as we rhythmically sway to the inner beat of a macabre mind, the light illuminates only our thoughts. Dressed in shadows we dance the night away, for in single moments we are more real before we cease to exist.

***

In one of those strange but true moments, I have had the most bizarre song stuck in my head today. Private Emotion by Ricky Martin. This song was out when I was 12 or something, and while it was a single, I don't think it was ever especially successful. Where did it come from and why is it infesting my brain? Mysteries of the universe.

I’ve decided that I am going to be more pro-active this year. Volunteer at the Writers Festival, that sort of thing. I’ve decided that maybe it’s time to throw myself into this wholeheartedly. I’ve never really done that before, I’ve never really trusted myself with this. But if I don’t back myself as a writer, no one else will. I need to harden myself to disappointment, that not everyone will like what I do, that I will get rejected again and again, but if I believe in my work, if I sell it, and if I just stick with it – something might come of it. I definitely have a greater chance than sitting at home and being too scared to do anything about it. I’ve never really seen myself as a writer, as a profession I mean, but maybe it’s time I start looking at it in the right light as opposed to just shrugging it off and skirting around aimlessly. I have to commit to this, instead of looking at it as something I do simply because I always have and because I’m good at it, because I feel I can’t do anything else. I have another three years of tertiary education ahead of me, I will be picking up tricks of the trade from people who have been there, people who (despite my reservations) appear to know what they’re doing. I should take advantage of these things. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Besides, as the flair says, a professional writer is an amateur writer who didn’t quit. I need to be passionate about this for once. I mean, hell, maybe it’s time I started believing in myself.

Easier said than done though, if I remember correctly from past experience.

Oh, there is a Shakespeare festival! Who wants to go see Macbeth with me?

Music: I am trying to break your heart - Wilco
Mood: Only wishful thinking

The words she knows, the tune she hums

Part of the reason I enjoy reading autobiographies/non-fiction is the random information you pick up – for example, did you know that Nazi uniforms were designed by Hugo Boss? Then again, you pick up random information in fiction too...so I guess it isn't very relevant. Oh well.

I’ve had an interesting two days. When I haven’t been sprawled on the couch with a book/dvd, of course. After work on Tuesday I decided to finally drag my lazy self in to the city to get these damn tickets at the Opera House. I was partly inspired by the fact that it was overcast and not nearly as hot as it’s been the rest of the time. It was humid though but I decided to completely ignore this just so I could wear my new jacket. Glee. Anyway, walking to the Opera House is always a massive chore for me. Mostly because there are always thousands of people inbetween the station and my destination. When I did however get there, with relatively little fanfare, one guy decided to videotape me walking up the stairs to the box office. I do not know why, but it was just a little bit creepy. I then had to wait around as many tourists tried to get tickets to a show, any show. When I finally got a chance I felt a bit like Krusty in that Lisa Lionheart episode of The Simpsons cause I was done a matter of minutes – “Learn from a professional, kid”. I spent the rest of the afternoon in a disappointed haze since I couldn’t find a book, a dvd, or a cd I wanted. I did however try on that leather jacket at Sportsgirl – ew, ok, just ew. Don’t even go there. That one is definitely struck from the list. Oh but I did catch a glimpse of Travis while grumbling about Borders' dvd/cd collection. You should see the boy, he’s gone nerd to the extreme. The hair’s all short and he’s got glasses and…sigh. You wouldn’t even recognise him if it wasn’t for the tattoos. I still think he’s absolutely gorgeous though. The rest of the afternoon passed as I waited for mum to finish work and got her old boss to teach me Welsh (he’s orginally from Swansea). It such a bizarre little language. I also may have gotten into an agurment with the IT boys about why Batman is so much cooler than Spider-man, and I earned the comment “you sound like the Big Bang Theory!” I take it as a compliment. I have embraced my inner nerdom. What’s the point of denying it?

Oh and as if to prove the point, I spent the entire night indulging the Whoniverse with my mum. ‘The Christmas Invasion’ was on ABC and I told her we were going to watch it – she didn’t object. I explained the back story and then made sure she wasn’t going anywhere by making tea and such, not that she even tried to escape. I think she liked it, especially the Lion King bit haha. I followed this by flipping to UKTV where they were showing the last episode of Torchwood Season 1 and she watched that too [Season 2 starts next week, watch it! Even if it’s just ‘Kiss, Kiss, Bang, Bang’ – James Marsters is fantastic]. Although at one point she was a bit confused, “I’ve seen this before!” and I was like nooo, you’ve probably seen me watching it before and caught glimpses of it. My mother also thinks Gwen is a bit of an idiot and that Owen is a tool. Although there was this one moment at the start where she confused Ianto for Owen and I nearly died from the indignity. After all, she’s watched Torchwood before, she should know better! Then of course, since Tuesdays is Who night on UKTV, I flipped to the +2 channel and watched the episode that was on while the Christmas special aired…which is the second part of the Slitheen set from Season 1. Mum sat through this too, though she did exclaim over how much of this stuff was actually on. I told her I could always get the dvds out. In case you haven’t picked up on it, I’m trying to get her into it. So far she’s very tolerant of this obsession, and she’s more than willing to watch it with me if she has nothing better to do. I would like her to watch it of her own free will, but that probably isn’t going to happen. The only tv show she’s currently into like that is Life. It used to be House and Numb3rs and NCIS, but she loses interest after the first two seasons or so. Guess I can’t really blame her.

So anyway, although it seems my life revolves around this stuff, it’s not strictly true. I took Em out last night to see The Complete Works of Shakespeare which somehow turned out to be a whole dinner-and-a-show thing as it somehow became her belated Christmas present from me. Not wanting to stray to far from the Quay, we had dinner at Pancakes at the Rocks, and when I say dinner, I mean this only in the sense that we had food at what is considered dinner time, since we both actually took advantage of their all day breakfast menu and had bacon and eggs. As nocturnal beings, I feel this makes sense. I don’t know how or why, but we sat there for a very long time and the next thing I knew it was twenty to eight. Show started at eight. Oops. So there we were, scuttling back along the quay, dodging tourists and trying desperately to stay out of camera lenses lest we look like refugees from the planet lame (this is a turn of phrase I also picked up in the autobiography, which I think pretty much sums up most of my exploits and as such, I have adopted it for my own *pats words*). I was also yet again reminded why I like summer nights in the city - it's not nearly as hot as during the day and you can actually risk running around like a loon. Still, we did eventually make it with perhaps a minute to spare. We have skills.

The show was utterly hilarious. They do all 37 plays in 97 minutes. Although apparantly mentioning King Lear in a fictional footy match of historical plays starring the likes of Kings Henry, Richard and John, apparantly counts. They started with Romeo and Juliet, but when Romeo made his enterance it was to Panic! At The Disco’s ‘I write sins not tragedies’ [I can include the exclamation mark damn it, it was still there when this song was released] and he was wearing a black wig and a My Chemical Romance Revenge-era t-shirt. Introduction? It’s Ro-emo. Em and I were laughing our heads off from the minute we heard Panic and it was pretty much a sign to come for the rest of the night. There was a medley of comedies, Othello in rap, and Titus Andronicus as a cooking show. It was brilliant. Macbeth was done in Scottish accents, although just putting ‘mac’ in front of everything seems to count – “Macnot very Macmuch”. Hamlet closed the show, and it was done about four times – once like the others, then faster, then even faster, and then backwards. Even though it’s silly interpretations, I find it really interesting how people were on the edge of their seats for the final soliloquy – I mean everyone was leaning forward so intently. It’s just such an amazing thing really. It only made me ache yet again that I couldn’t see David Tennant in Hamlet though. It would have been the epitome of awesome. Shakespeare, whether done in this silly comedic fashion or plain and straight up, really is a great theatre experience. Seeing Shakespeare being played, the way it was always intended, is one of my favourite things. When you go back to read it after seeing it, it just makes so much more sense.

But I digress. I have probably rambled enough for one day. I might put good use to the Christmas present Em gave me yesterday. It’s so cool, she got it from Kikki K. where she works every now and then and there are post-its that say things like “read” and “love it” and “follow up”, as well as study-related ones. She knows me so well to indulge my post-it fetish. She also got me two notebooks; a book mark; pens that have swedish words and definitions on them (Kikki K. is a swedish company); and this hardcover book with tabs for things like books, music, films, and shops. All really good for me with my penchant for note-taking.

I still need to chuck out most of such said notes that I haven’t had a chance to go through yet. Sigh.

Music: Tiny Dancer - Elton John
Mood: Relaxed

Glaciers melting in the dead of night

I am sipping cane passionfruit and lemonade while watching the sun fade from the sky. Which would be infinitely more summery if there weren’t this many clouds about. Ah well. In spirit, it’s a good endeavour. It is Australia Day after all.

I was pondering going to see Slumdog Millionare with Em tonight, but as I have now been co-erced into drinking, this is not going to happen. Until I get off my ass and go for my full licence anyway, then I can have one drink at least and still be legal. But as of this moment, I shall remain home bound. Not necessarily a bad thing since I ache all over for some unfathomable reason.

Another thing that is unfathomable is the amount of crap I manage to accumulate. I've resumed the doomed clean out this afternoon and bloody hell, where did all this stuff come from? I am beginning to suspect there is a vortex, black hole, or temporal displacement active under my bed.

Other than that, I've had a good weekend. Lizzie came over yesterday and we headed into the city for some madness. There was shopping involved which led to the purchase of the aforementioned jacket at General Pants. It is love. Unfortunately, as is my lot in life, I also saw another jacket that took my fancy. Leather. Even more expensive. It be here. Won't know if it's worth sinking money into until I've actually tried it on. What can I say, I've got a thing for military style clothing. I'm also a total jacket whore. We also saw Revolutionary Road which was wholly depressing. Really. The evening was topped off with dinner at one of my favourite harbourside cafes, all the while watching the Australia Day celebrations happening around Darling Harbour. So all in all, it was a very nice night.

I finally went to Ikea with my mum today. I found a cd/dvd shelf that should solve my current problem - I've moved all my books onto my current shelving unit so there are now some 120 plus homeless cds lying around. I figured this is an easy solution. Especailly since we are definitely running out of dvd space, and they are all pretty much my dvds...what can you do. Although while shopping about, we got thinking it would be nice to buy a whole new shelving unit that matched my desk and the new shelf, and then get a new bed to match all that. Wonderful, 'cept for the little issue of not being made of Ikea vouchers. The bed I was eyeing optimistically was on sale for $200 but sadly only comes in white. Epic fail crazy Swedish furniture people, epic fail. They continued with their epic failure by not having any double sized bedding available and also by being temporarily out of the dvd shelf I wanted. Bah! So now that I know what I want, I have to wait until they get it in again...whenever that may be. In the meantime I've issued a trip warning for the spare room lest someone send my cds sprawling everywhere. There will be hell to pay if a case gets broken, I don't care about any sprained limbs in the process. As always, I am rational and show a clear grasp of healthy priorities.

That paragraph makes little to no sense. Ramble, ramble.

Well, guess that's it...lots more clearing out to be done *weeps*

Music: Supermassive Black Hole - Muse
Mood: Groggy

Is this a blackout or am I losing my sight?

I get so sick of repeating myself. And having to put up with all this...this *waves hands around in all-encompasing fashion*...stuff.

I've spent the entire day feeling like a semi-trailer ran over my head, stopped, considered my predicament, then reversed to do it again. In short, we are not amused.

Today was another waste of time on my behalf. Work was ridiculously busy, and I spent the afternoon in a stupor finishing White Night. Finally. That took forever. I didn't really get into it all, usually with the Dresden Files I get through them in three days max cause it builds a certain level of tension and mystery and whatever so I just push through it, but this one did nothing for me at all really. It's still a worthy read though, if only for the Star Wars and Lord of the Rings jokes I never tire of.

It was another scorcher again too. Which is partly why I got nothing done, I wasn't going to saunter about if it wasn't really necessary. I feel sorry for all the people at the big day out today. I usually feel sorry for them cause its usually this hot and humid. Now I love music as much as one person physically can, but there is no way I'd be standing around the homebush concrete jungle all day in this weather. I'd be a puddle of goo sticking to people's shoes in no time flat. Can you imagine being in a mosh in this? Holy hell no.

Hm. Mum got a bunch of holiday photos printed. Looking at it makes my heart ache a little, I have always adored Europe. Lately I find myself missing London so much at times it defies any real eloquent expression. I never thought I would but hey, what can you do. I love Sydney, with all my heart. But I can love two things at once, surely.

Blah. I feel completely worse for wear. I suspect there might be an alien parasite nesting in my brain. Suddenly overwhelmingly tired as well.

I have so much I have to do...responsibilities I have to attend to, and soon. I keep putting things off and while procrastination is fine, these things have no deadlines and if I don't slap myself into action, things will probably never get done. Besides, January is almost over, shocking as that is. But hey, long weekend at least. Not going to hear me arguing with that.

Understatement of the day goes to this genius comment I found over at BBC America :
You know there's actually a lot of background Torchwood stuff happening in Doctor Who. It actually helps understand Torchwood better.
Wow. Who would have thunk it?

That's actually kinda bitchy of me isn't it? Well...guess I'm in a bitchy kinda mood.

Music: Infinitely late at night - The Magnetic Fields
Mood: Crappy...mind-fuck-alien-after-effect crappy.

If he was any further in the closet, he'd be in Narnia

A bone-deep weariness is seeping into my soul. I find myself more and more cocooned in my room, safe in bed and fictional worlds. So easy to be happy here, to forget to live. My peace is always shattered by the return of the parentals. It’s probably good though, that they’re here, I’d so easily become a hermit if left to my own devices. But it doesn’t make their constant presence and hovering in my door any less annoying. They recognise the slight change in behaviour for what it is, but after all these years, they still don’t know how to deal with it. They’ve never firmly grasped the concept of leaving me alone.

Here’s a scary thought, my dad has been offered a job in a different area which means he will now be working some horrific shift that starts at 6am to 6pm for two days, then 6pm to 6am for the next two, and THEN he has five days off. Count them, five. I am going to go insane. The 6pm to 6am shift is bad enough – he gets extremely grumpy when he works nights mostly cause he has difficulty sleeping during the day. Since I only work four hours a day, this means I am either going to have to limit my activities at home or not be home at all. The five days off…that’s just too daunting to even contemplate. For the first few days he’ll be grumpy as all hell due to sleep deprevation (he really doesn’t handle it well) and the rest of the time he is going to be bored out of his mind (he can’t ever sit still), all of which leads right back to me. So in short, we are going to kill each other. I swear. Mum of course doesn’t understand the level of my woe because I see him way more than she does – which is just not fair. She married him! I just live here. Anyway, this crazy madness starts next month. Bah, I say. Just. Bah. I don’t even know why they need anyone to work between 6pm and 6am…the bloody airport isn’t even open 24 hours. The plane isn't going to go anywhere. Sigh.

His being home more will mean I wont be able to spend my days like I spent this very morning – crawling out of bed at 11 only to collapse on the couch to watch David Tennant’s video diaries from Season 3. Which to me is an entirely acceptable way to spend a morning – David is such a loveable loon. Honestly. Making “ye olde” comments and pontificating on the Face of Boe’s difficulty finding other acting jobs…I just love it when I find other people exhibiting the same level of nuttiness I regularly do. At one point there were bits from the Doctor Who special of 'The Weakest Link' where John shows up with a bazillion shirts to choose from, and David’s all “Are you gay, John?” to which John responds with something along the lines of ‘Shh it’s a secret. Nobody knows.’ Like I said, loons. Although I have to agree with Catherine/Billie/David that John always looks good on camera…it really isn’t fair.

These Channel 10 ads for 'Life on Mars' are really starting to get on my nerves. I really wouldn't mind them (I do love a bit of Bowie after all) if it wasn't the US version. I want the UK version damn it! Why not show us that one, huh, huh? It was first after all AND it has John Simm in it! See, if The Master was in charge I wouldn't have to put up with this nonsense *huffs* Why even make a US version in the first place? The inner workings of television broadcasters are really baffling some times.

Don't blame me, I voted for Saxon.

I really need to start writing again. More specifically, writing for Soliloquy. I’m beginning to feel overwhelmed again, just by the sheer scope of the project, but this always happens before I start a new year. Exactly a month and two days till I have to drag myself off to class again…a culture subject too, joy. No, no. We’re being optimisitc about furthering my education and justifying another year doing nothing. So, as the Jack London quote says, you can’t wait for inspiration to strike, you have to go after it with a club.

But I’ll do that tomorrow, right now, I’ve got a date with a certain Doctor.

[Another quote I was debating including was Kafka – “A first sign of the beginning of understanding is the wish to die” – which really explains all those suicidal urges while writing Culture & Poetics essays last year *snort*]

Question of the day: How did people live without google and wikipedia?

Music: I wish I had an evil twin - The Magentic Fields
Mood: Cranky

Close your eyes

There is a lot of delusion in fandom. I realise it's all fictional anyway, but I think it might be better to err on the side of judgement and make sure to stick to what's actually plausible within the source of the fandom, as opposed to just whatever imaginings and wishful thinking takes one's fancy. It detracts from the original source, dilutes it and contorts it. What have we learnt? Deep down, I guess I'm a purist.

Only in my house will you find someone sitting under a blanket when it was yet again over 40 outside. It's not so bad when I'm home alone cause I maintain, what I feel is, a reasonable temperature but the mintue my dad gets here it all goes to hell. Well not hell...unless hell has frozen over, in which case the analogy is apt. I was yet again in that situation where I go out to get the mail, wearing a hoodie [hood up] resulting in the neighbours further questioning my sanity and near death from heat exhaustion. I never get used to it. It's hard to hate on the air-con for this cause without it, it's too damn hot, but with it, I live in a weird climateless state where I never quite know what the hell is going on out there. This is probably also due to the fact that I need to go out more...other than just, you know, work.

And so, on a completely related note, I should really go to bed so I can get up at a respectable time tomorrow (ie before 10.30) and go to the city in order to be back in time for work. I need to go pick up tickets for a play from the Opera House. Epic. Sigh.

Boredom continues to rage unchecked!

What Kind of Reader Are You? Your Result: Dedicated Reader You are always trying to find the time to get back to your book. You are convinced that the world would be a much better place if only everyone read more.
Literate Good Citizen
Obsessive-Compulsive Bookworm
Book Snob
Fad Reader
Non-Reader
What Kind of Reader Are You? Quiz Created on GoToQuiz

Music: Love story - Taylor Swift
Mood: Still moody

The blue of your eyes was infinite

I have fallen madly in love with this jacket at General Pants Co. It is the single most amazing thing I have seen all month. It's almost like a denim jacket, black and shorter than I'd normally wear, but it has the double breast military buttons & detail. It's gorgeous. It's $200. I want it anyway. They don't have it on the website or I'd post a link.

Today was spent sleeping in [woke up early cause it was too hot but I switched on the air-con and went right back to bed] and resuming the "do something about this room!" resolve. Four garbage bags later and I have finally completed a half-assed cleaning. I could still do more, I know, I just don't have the energy atm. I did the clothes at least, that's something. The weekend will see that visit to Ikea to see what can be done about my book situation. I keep having to stop my dad from carrying them off to the garage. I'd appreciate it if he didn't nosy about my room, but this appears to be a vain wish.

The cleaning of my desk revealed some of the thousands of post-its and notepaper I scribble on, mainly stuff like this...

We always long for the forbidden things, and desire what is denied us
- Francios Rabelais

"Life is to stay in places and to leave…to trust, to distrust…to no longer believe and believe again…to watch the changes in the seasons…to be out in boats….to watch the snow come, to watch it go…to hear the rain…and to know where I can find what I want.”
- Hemingway

“In a closed society where everybody’s guilty, the only crime is getting caught. In a world of thieves, the only final sin is stupidity.”
- Thompson [Fear & Loathing]

"I fear neither pain nor death."
"What do you fear, my lady?"
"A cage, To stay behind bars until use and old age accept them and all chance of valor has gone beyond recall or desire."
- LOTR: The Two Towers [Eowyn & Aragorn]

I like to waste paper.

Oh, I have come up with some belated new year's resolutions as well:
- manage my money better
- exercise more consistently
- be more sociable
- finish soliloquy and season 1 of amped
- don’t forget what I’ve learned
- cook something other than pasta every 2 weeks

Short. Sweet. Predictable? But hell, surely it should be achievable. Except that I've kinda already screwed up the first two, but since I technically only made these up today, we can start now right? Well, maybe after I've acquired that jacket...haha this is such a lost cause. I am a slave to my consumerist impulses! It's a shame really.

Anyway, the last lot of Merlin episodes arrived today. Gives me something to do other than watch Torchwood episodes that make me tear up every time I watch it, which I have done a fair few times...

First though I am going to melt some cooking chocolate and dip marshmallows in it. Hmmm. Chocolate goodness.

Music: I don't believe you - The Magnetic Fields
Mood: Moody

I'm not one for love songs

Another sleepless night. See this is why I never to actually go to bed before midnight, there’s no point. I will just lie there, tossing and turning, until 2am anyway. The way I see it, I might as well get something done. Unsurprisingly, getting up at 7 was painful and I was well settled into a zombified state. We weren’t very busy tho, so it was ok really, I did have a slight brain meltdown trying to figure out how to work the new fax machine which may have taken longer than it should have, but hey, I got there in the end and that is the important part.

One of the worst things about working at a doctor’s, other than seeing the elderly weakly batting death off with their walking sticks, is meeting some lovely fantastic people who want to have kids, but who can’t. I always get sort of upset at this, it’s one of the cruelest things about the universe. I mean there are people out there, loving, caring people, with the potential to be wonderful parents, and they never get the opportunity. Then you have these people who really shouldn’t be procreating in the first place who have like twenty kids…where is the justice in that? Adopting isn’t an easy thing either, and it breaks my heart a little, thinking how difficult this is for no apparent reason. Life is a cruel mistress.

Bleakness aside, another “heat wave” has rolled in. I’ve spent the day inside in airconditioned mediocrity and am really disappointed I did, cause when I went outside at 5 it was absolutely gorgeous. I mean sure it’s hot, but I’m not actually going to be moving, am I? I just want to sit on the grass and soak up the summer-y goodness. Fresh air! Sunshine! Summer breeze! Like I said, it was gorgeous. Instead I spent my day in front of the tv/computer…such a waste!

Really not surprising then that I’m bored as all hell. People tend to get a little frazzled this time of year and my patience is often put to the test. All I want to do is go out there and have fun. I want to feel that lazy summer night quality the city always does so well. Get dressed up, laugh, be both silly and grown up. Be everything and nothing in a moment. I want to feel that energy…the longer I stay still, the more the apathy gets its claws in.

Not long ago, I gave up hope
But you came along,
You gave me something I could hold on to
And I want you
More than you can ever know

I give thee proof of my boredom -

Which Torchwood Character Are You? Your Result: Ianto Jones You most resemble the team's composed, sarcastic general support. Passionate but excellent at hiding it under a reserved exterior, you care deeply about people and have a hard time letting go. The downside of keeping such a tight leash on your external emotions is that sometimes you lose control and have to let it all out. Competent and hard-working, you like to be on top of things.
Toshiko Sato
Gwen Cooper
Captain Jack Harkness
Owen Harper
Which Torchwood Character Are You? Quiz Created on GoToQuiz

Hahahaha. Like I said before - awkward, sarcastic, receptionist.

Music: The World's got it's shine (but I would drop it on a dime) - Cobra Starship
Mood: Weird

You try so hard to find a rhythm in your heartbeat

Now he would never write the things he had saved to write about until he knew enough to write them well. Well, he would not have to fail at trying to write them either. Maybe you could never write them, and that was why you put them off and delayed the starting. Well, he would never know, now.

- Hemingway

It's so true. You put it off, saying you'll start sooner or later, maybe just a little more research or after just a little more procrastination. Scared of not doing it justice, of not being able to translate it perfectly onto the page, or worse yet, having it misunderstood. So you never start, if you never start you can never fail. Not that you accomplish anything either. But there's always tomorrow...

My laptop gets worse by the day. Implosion imminent? I'd take it in to be swapped but with my luck its screen won't work that day and then they'd know it wasn't in "perfect working order". Sigh. I guess I'd better just make back ups of everything.

I have gotten halfway through the whole "cleaning out" my room business. I have managed to chuck out one bag full of old clothes and organise all my uni stuff into one container. I'd throw it out, but I figure I might need some of it for Honours this year. I've also gotten everything in vague order, so all the bits and pieces match. All my Amped stuff is in one folder for example. Once I've finished with my room, I need to do the same for my computer. It's a mess of word documents filled with every little thing. I also have a ridiculous amount of folders, I do love my folders. It's a good outlet for the old OCD.

Anywho, better keep going now that I've actually started I guess.

Music: Take Care - A Change of Pace
Mood: Sore

*yawn*

I don't actually know why I fight sleep as much as I do. When I want to sleep, I never can, but right now, I'm exhausted and it's a respectable time, so why not just go to bed? Why not indeed. I apparantly have no control over myself...wait, that doesn't make sense? Oh, the talking to myself, it fries my brain!

Clearly I have gone insane.

Anywho, random thing to amuse myself with -

*Grab the book nearest you. Right now.
*Don't dig for your favorite book, the coolest, the most intellectual. Use the CLOSEST
*Turn to page 56.
*Find the fifth sentence.
*Post that sentence.

"Something that felt vaguely like an enormous feather pillow swung by the Incredible Hulk slammed into my chest."
- White Night, Jim Butcher

The Dresden Files books are in general always good for a quote...fantastically nerdy quotes. Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, it's all there.

Music: Smile - Frank Sinatra
Mood: Numb

So there I was, killing them softly with my song

My neighbourhood has gone into noise-overdrive mode this weekend, for reasons unknown. It's just one chaotic cacophony after another, starting with someone doing burnouts with a truck in their yard at 11pm on Friday. Brilliant. Just. Brilliant.

I went shopping yesterday and managed to stay in the budget I had imposed on myself. Shock and awe. Got a denim skirt and top from Just Jeans, as well as a [fire engine] red button up shirt for work, a bracelet, and three singlet/tank tops. I'm in the mood for that kinda thing this summer. Now next paycheck is going towards the purchase of Doc Martens. That's right. Finally. Either black or Mat-Devine-Red, haven't decided yet. Black is probably more versatile. Either way, it'll be that mid-length.

Watched a Bond film just shy of midnight last night, I'm not sure which on it was but the girl in it was gorgeous. Not the Bond girl, the villian's girl, the one who tries to kill him. I mean, really, gorgeous. And psychotic. Not surprising really.

I've spent the day floating about the Sutherland shire in a long black dress, wedges, and pink scarf. At one point I even had pink carnations. I'm not quite sure why I did any of this, but it filled a lot of time. The rest of the time was spent sleeping...feeling less than well. I blame my mother. If she makes me sick again I am going to be very, very upset. I still havent cleaned out my room. In short, there is no hope for me.

Currently considering purchasing another big bookshelf from Ikea to replace my half-length one that also masquerades as dressing table. I can't have all my books lying around and I can't bear to part company with them to put them in the garage or somewhere. I think we should move. Funnily enough, mum's been looking at houses, found a gorgeous one bit further north with a swimming pool and 5 bedrooms, hmmm private study for me. Only problem is it's in the middle of nowhere...and stupidly expensive, but hey that's the property market for ya. Still, I can indulge in some wishful thinking if I want. It is rather sad that my room can so regularly depress me. This house was clearly designed by a male. Epic fail, designer, epic fail.

About a boy is on tonight. As always I am tempted to watch it even though I have it on dvd. I have such love for that movie. Oh shut up, you're wounding my soul!

Music: That goddamn Life on Mars ad
Mood: Tired

Think happy thoughts

I want to go home so much it almost feels like an automatic response of body. Like someone hit a homing beacon or something. This is because it's ten minutes past my knock off time and I'm still here waiting for this damn medical to finish so I can do the account. Bah. I was considering going shopping after this but I've just been overwhelmed with a bone-crushingly tired feeling that triggered a huge yawning fit. Note to self : do not stay up until 3am reading.

To be fair, I couldn't sleep for the itching. My cure was to drug myself up to the eyeballs so I was numb enough not to notice. I concede that this is incredibly stupid behaviour. And yet here I am considering it yet again. Itching is torture, and I am weak.

So new game plan - go home, have lunch, crash on the couch while finishing season 2. Excellent.

These pants I'm wearing are driving me mad. They used to be one of my favourites, black with dark pinstripes with that whole tailored baggy thing happening. My mum always says they make me look painfully thin (I suspect cause they're so baggy). Anyway, problem is, they've become too loose so they keep slipping down. I constantly have to pull them up or make sure they aren't down below my hips again. It's frustrating! And not even fair. I haven't lost weight at all, I'm still the same dress size and everything. I don't know if the exercise I've been doing and the meagre muscle tone has somehow made a difference just to this particular pair of pants...? Eh. I really liked these pants, probably the only one of my work lot I do actually like.

Right that's it. I'm going home. I've had enough of this waiting stupidity, it's not like anyone's going to pay me overtime...

P.S. Awww bands are so cute when they try to be sneaky, poor things, they have to get up pretty early in the morning to get anything past me.

Music: The steady hum of traffic
Mood: Annoyed

Standing trail for your sins

Prompt: Very vaguely on the following extract of Sonnet 97 by Shakespeare.
What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen!
What old December's bareness everywhere!
The entire story itself was originally inspired by the line “I like the skin stretched over your bones” from The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot, by Brand New
Characters: Iris, Dorian, Alexandra [implied] (Limbo)
Timeline: Near the end of the story, before Alex finds out about Dorian's "eloborate scheme" if you will
Word count: 1,148
Author’s comments: I felt like dabbling with the closest thing to immortal characters I’ve come up with. I do love my immortals. I started this story for my Children’s Writing class last semester, so it’s meant to be teen fiction, roughly 24 chapters or so. This is part of the final turning point, but from Dorian's POV (the actual piece is done in Alex's voice) ...Please ignore all the godforsaken bloody adverbs. They have a way of sneaking up on me.

***

The air feels thick as it enters my lungs, grainy and suffocating like dust. It presses in around me. I can feel it in every single pore as I wrench myself back into wakefulness. My chest constricts with a gasp I didn’t realise I had in me, and my ribs ache with the memory of forgotten bruises. My eyes fly open and find nothing but darkness. I have to blink a few times before I am able to identify shapes, before I remember I'm in a bedroom. The panic fades a lot quicker than the bitter metallic taste in my mouth, or the smell of sulphur and decaying flesh. This is why I never slept anymore.
There’s a subtle shift next to me and I suddenly become very aware of a warm form curled against my back. The past twenty four hours come rushing back with all the subtlety of a runaway freight train. A sound somewhere between an exhalation and a strangled sob wrenches itself from my body as I try to fight the guilt that threatens to overtake me. Consume me. Drown me. I know I shouldn’t fight it. I deserved it for what I nearly lost that day.
“Oh please, spare me the melodrama.”
I sit up quickly; resisting the urge to launch myself at the figure perched on the window ledge. Iris merely looks down at me with a self satisfied smirk on her face.
“What do you want?” I hiss, aware that my eyes have narrowed dangerously and my body has shifted to shield the figure still sleeping behind me.
Iris flips her silver blonde hair over her shoulder and it catches momentarily in a breeze that isn’t actually there. It’s all meant to be very intoxicating, mesmerizing, utterly irresistible, whatever…even the most glamorous of tricks lose there shine when you’ve been dealing with them for over ninety years.
“You know, what you did yesterday was rather brave, if incredibly stupid. Isn’t that what got you killed in the first place?”
I flinch despite myself and the melodic laugh that follows makes my hair stand on end. Gracefully, she moves to sit on the edge of the bed, trailing a finger along my cheek. I can practically hear my heart rate slowing. I know I can’t move, but that doesn’t stop me from trying. She leans forward to whisper in my ear, overwhelming my senses with the unique scent of strawberries and flowers.
“You can’t win, Dorian.”
“I already have,” I reply, secure in the feeling of warmth next to me. I feel her smile, a slight flex in her cheek as it brushes mine.
“She’ll be dead before long,” she says as she pulls back, “I win.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“I’d dare, you know full well I would. But this has nothing to do with me, this is life. Not that it's something you’ve really ever understood, is it? Oh it’ll seem like a snap of the fingers to you, but her years will be spent. Ultimately, I always win. Nature plays right into my hands.”
“No, I can…”
“What? Give her an option?” she demands roughly, a shadow falling across her features, “Don’t waste my time Dorian. I can’t abide with stupidity.”
I become aware that I’m grinding my teeth. It is with some effort that I manage to unclench my muscles enough to reply. “I will think of something.”
“You took your place in this a long time ago, there are no options at your disposal.”
“There are always options,” I shoot back, glaring at her.
“Not with you,” she murmurs, brushing the back of her hand across my cheek, “No, definitely not. I should have known really, that this would happen with you. Always running, never facing the consequences of anything you start –”
“Stop it,” I interrupt quietly, but she doesn’t pay attention. Blood starts rushing in my ears. I try my best not to listen to her, not to give her what she wants.
“– always going in with guns blazing, dragging others down with you, while you merely skip out in the end. Everyone you touch only has one option, to suffer, for you –”
Anger burns through my entire being. Iris knows exactly what buttons to push, I know this, but it still doesn’t stop the guilt from washing over me with the underlying truth of her words. It stings while the fact that she can get to me, well, that just infuriates.
“Stop it!” I exclaim, drawing it in. The emotions give me enough willpower to break her hold, and I jump up forcing her to follow. I tower over her as she stands with her back against the window. My fists are clenched and I have to remind myself where I am before we start one of our battles. I know I’m shaking with the strain of holding it all in, all that fury and frustration I want to hurl at her ridiculously deceptive face in the form of heat and thunder.
Still she stands there, staring benevolently back at me. I see her laughter course through her body more than I actually hear it. The effect is still the same though and as I break out in goose bumps I can feel the power I held dissipating.
“You forget your place boy,” she says quietly, a soft smile still playing on her lips. I can do nothing but exhale heavily as she steps closer to me, standing on tip toes to kiss my temple.
“Besides,” she begins as she pulls back, smoothing down my shirt, “What makes you think she’ll want anything to do with you, once she’s found out what you’ve done?”
My mouth opens and closes on its own violation as it tries to come up with something to say and my heart lurches painfully when I realise I’ve got no reply. The hollow feeling of dread and horror I’ve felt over the past two days return with enough force to knock me out, and I suddenly feel excruciatingly tired.
Somewhere behind her mask of sadomasochism, Iris almost looks vaguely sympathetic. “That’s why we don’t play with the living Dorian, consider this fair warning.”
She takes my hand in hers and as much as I try to withdraw, my muscles refuse to respond. She smiles encouragingly, as if she enjoys my feeble struggles against her control.
“Good night, sweet prince,” she says quietly. With a sigh she flips over the traitorous appendage, and presses her lips to my wrist.
The last thing I see is purple. I can hear the crash of waves against a cliff face long before I actually orientate my senses again. Not that I need them. I know exactly where I am. I shudder as the wind howls around me, and I only open my eyes when the first raindrop falls. I sigh heavily as I glance around the barren cliff top. It never changes. Staring into the stormy ocean below, I sit and wait for morning.

Music: Rain, thunder, a whimpering dog, and Torchwood
Mood: Aggravated to infinity plus one

Midnight in torrential downpour

My back itches like you would not fucking believe. I want to tear my skin off and run away. I am supremely pissed at this unexpected sunburn business especially since it started raining as I drove to work today. My car is now just as dirty as two days ago, so I burnt for nothing. Great.

UGH. It's driving me mad. I'm trying to distract myself and it's failing miserably.

I still haven't been paid. This is worrying.

I'm currently trying to decide what Soundwave Sideshows to go to. It doesn't look like we'll be going to the festival cause it's just so expensive, and they've added a few sideshows. But, in epic woe, Say Anything appears to have pulled out. Which leaves NFG/Hellogoodbye, Anberlin/Chiodos/Silverstein, Alkaline Trio/Saves the Day/The Subways, RJA/FTSK/Jack's Mannequin, and Billy Talent. I could do two, cause for more than that I might as well go to the festival. Although to see Say Anything, it might actually be worth it.

I want to get a denim skirt. You know, along with the doc martins and all the tops I've been eyeing. I am really, really trying to be more responsible with my money this year. Also I'm pretty sure my 'round the world trip won't be happening, so I might postpone it until I'm done studying, and either head to London or Chicago for Christmas this year instead. Just for two weeks or so. It'll depend on how the saving goes I guess.

A cool change has come in and the temperature has dropped dramatically from what was close to 40 to just 24. It's actually bearable to be outside now, I nearly melted when I headed to work...and the doctor was late so I sat in my car for half an hour waiting for him. Not fun. There was a huge congregation of birds under the tree, just sitting there looking at me...guess it was too hot for them too.

I had something to say but...I don't know. It's escaped me. Must not have been very important to start with.

Music: The Torchwood theme
Mood: Irritated

I break, you don't

I absolutely love nights like tonight – when it’s been so hot during the day that the darkness is a relief, and when I step outside, the air seems to wrap around me like a warm blanket, just perfect and comfortable. The sky is clear, and I can lie outside watching the stars all night, perfectly content. I wish it could stay like this forever.

Today was boiling, so hot in fact radiators were blowing up all over the road and one car even caught on fire. Luckily I was going to opposite way cause the traffic was just mayhem. I, for one, do not want to sit in an hour's worth of backed up traffic in 38 degree heat, my car hates standing still and powering the air-con at the same time - "my engine...too feeble...must stutter and lurch awkwardly forward..." It's fine when actually driving, just objects to stationary positions. Anywho. Sped quite a bit. This is going to get me in trouble. Again. I was thinking the other day it's a good thing I have the car I do, if I had a car with actual power I'd probably be quite a menace on the road. It runs in the family! It's not my fault, it's the genes! Would that defence hold up in court? There is such a raw, unsophisticated joy in speeding across an open road though. It's even better on a bike.

Spent the day at Lizzie's...did some window shopping, had a nice lunch, sprawled out and indulged in our favourite passtime of TARDIS adventures. As always, time well spent. Driving makes me lazy though.

I really have to clean my damn room tomorrow, it's been in chaos for a week now cause I keep saying I'll do a clean out tomorrow...unsurprisingly, tomorrow never comes. Yes! Lame pop reference award goes to me. Anywho. I don't want to work, typical. I haven't been paid, damn it. And I am craving ice cream, futile.

As always I am a shining example of not actually having a point.

Music:Claire de lune - Debussy
Mood: Relaxed

Prone to cling and waste these things

So, as my mother would say, in for a penny, in for a pound. And basically, I can obsess like it's nobody's business.

Blame Abs for this one. Proper blog to follow.

Ten Reasons To Love Ianto Jones:
- He looks good in a suit (or a waistcoat, or jeans, or nothing…wait, what?)
- He is fiercely loyal (to a fault even) and non-judgmental
- He is resourceful
- He makes fantastic coffee
- He is good at looking after people (let’s face it, without Ianto, the Torchwood team would have died from dehydration, starvation, or possibly some disease caused by unsanitary conditions, long ago…also on a sidenote, see, in this show the basics are covered early on so no one ever has to ask “where do the they sleep?”)
- He’s wonderfully sarcastic, when he isn’t being emo, both incarnations are perfectly loveable though
- He isn’t obsessed with Gwen bloody Cooper
- He shot Owen (and looked amazing while doing so)
- He won’t take shit from people attacking his friends/loved ones (see: stun gun, head butting, ninja kicking, and power ranger style arm flailing)
- He knows everything (and it says so on the bottom of his computer screen *cough*)

Other pros include his gorgeous eyes (and lips, and he has a really cute nose, ok? I’m sorry but it's true) and he appears to randomly carry chocolate around, that is never a bad thing. The list can go on...and did I mention he looks good in a suit? Whoniverse = suit fetish.

Conclusion? Jack Harkness does not appreciate this man nearly enough. Really Jack, I love you and I realise you are a dashing, immortal, hopeless flirt with numerous issues (which is why I love you) but I honestly can’t bear to have much more of this pseudo-lusting after Gwen going on when you have the completely adorable Ianto around. Are you completely mad? I’d blame the Master, but you know, pesky time lines. Clearly Ianto has better taste…well, except for the whole hiding Lisa thing, but I said taste not judgement. I just feel Jack should either piss off with Gwen and leave the poor dude alone for me, or get over his subtle Gwenisms. I’m not by nature a shipper, but I am one for moving the hell on. Other than that, I still have a horrible suspicion that Ianto is going to perhaps move on more permanently come the next season, but I think RTD has a bit of a crush on Gareth, so it might be ok (this is one of the few times I will acknowledge there is an actor involved, it's easier if I just ignore that whole "fictional" bit). I doubt we really need the Jack and Gwen show o_o Don’t get me wrong, I’m not majorly anti-Gwen. She just tends to annoy me quite regularly…she’s always taking the moral high ground when she herself is anything but squeaky clean. And she always makes Jack feel guilty about things that are really not relevant cause she’s one of those well meaning but misguided nosy people, and he’s a susceptible fucked up idiot. Her character can sometimes be very inconsistent. The only voice of reason left really in this madness is Ianto, and considering he’s the battle-scarred nutter who dragged his cybernetic girlfriend out of a burning Torchwood One skyscraper (thanks for that by the way Doctor, I realise you were busy losing Rose and all, but it’s not always enough to just stop the monsters, sometimes the aftermath bears some thought too….for all his scorn for Torchwood, if it wasn’t for them cleaning/covering up half the time, who knows what could happened) and then nearly allowed her to kill everyone, that’s saying a lot about the mental state of this not-so-secret organisation.

What is it with secret organisations and not being secret? I mean things like the CIA and MI5/6 are meant to be “secret” but everyone knows about them…I guess what they do, and how they do it, is secret and that’s more important. Well, Torchwood qualifies under that description. It’s not “secret” in the sense that Peter Parker is Spiderman, or possibly the worst “secret” identity ever, Clark Kent as Superman. Glasses do not make an adequate disguise. I’m sorry, they just don’t. There’s no way they’d fool me if I was Lois Lane and spent that much time in his arms being rescued. What is wrong with that woman? Perhaps she is the one with vision issues.

And since I'm on the topic ANYWAY, look at this...

It's from shooting season 3. Makes you think things might be moving forward doesn't it? Look at the smile! It's all so indulgent. Except that it's just on set, and not actually in character. Sigh. How they enjoy toying with the fandom.

Music: Every me, every you - Placebo
Mood: Restless

We can turn our backs on the past

Holy crap, am I glad not to be working tomorrow. Today was epically boring. I had to go to great lengths to amuse myself. I hate that. I've got more than enough stuff to keep me busy at home, it always feel like a huge waste when I'm just sitting there, pulling staples out of files. I really need to start taking either Soliloquy or Amped stuff with me. Probably be better with the former, since that's going to be graded eventually.

My neighbours and I had a music battle this afternoon. It started with the front neighbours blasting Hybrid Theory. It took me a while to figure out where it was coming from cause I could not believe my next door neighbour's kids would be listening to Linkin Park, even if it was some manifestation of teen angst since I have after all witnessed them dancing to Soulja Boy's 'Crank That' (an afternoon where homicide seemed like a very attractive option). This was shortly followed by those very same kids playing Katy Perry. As I was trying to wash my car, I needed music too. At first I was merely listening to Glasvegas on my iPod, but after the hose got involved, I switched to the car cd player...to counterbalance all the music happenings around me, I went for Viva la Cobra! I think it went down well. What did not go down so well however is the bloody sunburn I now have on my back. ME. Sunburn. What. The. Hell. Perhaps it has been too long since my skin has seen natural light and it immediately reacted. I don't know, I never burn normally. And it's just my back, the rest of me is as translucent as ever. It should be nice and brown by Thursday, but it's still very strange. I was completely shocked when I caught sight of myself in the mirror, I couldn't understand why I was red, I though I'd scratched myself or something. Idiot. An unamused idiot, but still.

I watched the most bizarre episode of Starsky & Hutch today, which had some significant homoerotic undertones. It was very, very strange. I don't normally watch it so I have no idea if it's always like this, or whether it was just this particular episode. I sat there looking at it in a confused manner as I often do with these seventies tv shows, and asked my mother if she was finding it as dodgy as I was. She concurred. Ah, my poor long suffering mother.

Oh, speaking of, you know that resolution I had at the start of the week? Yeah, well screw that. I have the Christmas Special. Epic amounts of GLEE. Mum gave me her flash drive and I thought it was the next lot of Merlin episodes, so I'm innocently opening it and what do I see but Doctor Who goodness. I am ashamed to admit some loud exclamations were involved. PC got it for me. Have I mentioned how much I love those IT boys? I'm going over to Lizzie's tomorrow and will watch it then *happy sigh*

It's funny cause mum rang me this afternoon and the conversation went something like this:
"What are you doing?"
"Um, well I washed my car, and now I'm watching tv."
"You're watching Torchwood, aren't you?"
"Wha - I - um - yeah *sheepishly* Bloody torchwood."
"*sigh* PC gave me some more stuff for you."
"Oh cool, thanks! What do you want for dinner?"

My mum is really quite good in putting up with all my crap.

Since I broke the resolution, and I find this quite amusing in it's randomness, I was watching Doctor Who on UKTV ('The Unquiet Dead') and accidentally hit the wrong button so it jumped to ABC where ironically Party Animals was on, causing me to go "Heeeey, it's Matt Smith!" It was all very appropriate and amusing in that "six degrees of seperation" kind of way.

Music: The World Has It's Shine - Cobra Starship
Mood: Content

Keep us comatose but audible

Forcing myself back into writing with the flash fiction business. It's about time. Honestly, you'd think my Honours thing will simply write itself in excellent style the way I've been floating around.

Prompt: Double prompt from Abbi's flash 'I hate myself' and a pic from my prompts file.

Characters: Kiley and Phoebe Marshall (Amped)
Timeline: About five months before ESM form
Word count: 1,439
Author’s comments: I don't know really. I wanted to show Kill as being grumpy and maybe a bit insolent, but when she realises her sister needs her, she's there for it. I'm beginning to think she really needs to be needed. She wants to solve everyone's problems even if she has no idea what they are or how to go about it. Probably why she can't leave Eric alone.

***

Kiley Marshall hated a lot of things. She hated the feel of wet grass under her bare feet. She hated the smell of vanilla, especially in cleaning products. She hated cinnamon sticks in her hot chocolate, and the smell of nail glue. She also hated driving at night. Driving in general wasn’t exactly one of her favourite things to do. In fact, she never even wanted to get her licence in the first place. Her dad had started nagging her about if before she was even legal, and like any good teenager, the more he carried on, the more she struggled against it. It wasn’t just misplaced teenage rebellion; her father was a terrible teacher. Kill was convinced sticking a needle in her eye would have been better than being trapped in a confined space with him while he gave vague instructions and then made that disapproving noise at the back of his throat when she invariably screwed up. The argument went on for weeks until finally, Phoebe offered to teach Kill herself.
“I don’t need a licence,” Kill had insisted, glowering at her sister.
“Oh come on, you never know when you might need it.”
“This is London Pheebs, it’s called public transport.”
Phoebe had just rolled her eyes and taken a course which Kill had thought to be entirely unfair.
“You’ll never be any use to a touring band without a licence.”
Kill had glowered at her sister, wanting to say that she wouldn’t be of use to one anyway, but she had recognised that look in Phoebe’s eyes. It was the one that meant business, the “resistance is futile!” look.
Of course, Phoebe never really got around to the actual teaching. Her job made her life pretty hectic, and she was always running from one place to the other, apparently never standing still. Kill had envied her that and with that reason, she had finally sucked it up and faced the torture her father dubbed ‘teaching’. In retrospect, it probably worked out for the better – half the time Phoebe’s driving was two minutes shy of a car wreck. That didn’t mean Kill enjoyed it, from the monotony to the traffic, it was hardly her idea of a good time.
“Jesus,” Kill muttered as a car rounded the corner, high beams momentarily blinding her. It was only a few seconds before they dimmed apologetically, after all who expected anyone to be on the road at 1am on a Thursday?
“Jesus,” she said again, swiping at a stray hair irritably as the wipers swiped at the rain. The rhythmic thud was almost hypnotic as the rubber drew bleary wet lines across the glass when any stray light fell across it. She sincerely hoped it wouldn't be like this all the way to bloody Birmingham. Birmingham! Kill sighed and turned up the music. It was going to be a long night.

~

Phoebe was sitting on the kerb when Kill arrived. She pulled up and was about to switch off the car, but before she could even move, Phoebe was already clambering into the passenger seat. Kill cocked her head.
“Err…Pheebs?”
“Just drive,” Phoebe replied with her eyes fixed firmly in front of her.
Kill sighed and rubbed her neck. “Do you think I could get some coffee – ”
“Please…please, I just want to get out of here.”
Phoebe’s voice broke slightly on the first word. Kill turned to really look at her, taking in her slumped posture, her blank face, the way her hair was plastered to her forehead and dripping slightly and she didn’t even seem to notice. She frowned, uncertain if she should say something or not. This was the indomitable Phoebe Marshall after all. Force of nature. The one with all the answers. Or at least, she had always had all the answers to Kill’s questions.
“Please.”
Kill bit her lip and shifted back into drive.

~

The caffeine rushed through her system almost immediately, and for the hundredth time in her short life, Kill thanked the illustrious god of the coffee plant. She brought the cup to her lips and just breathed deeply. It might be service station coffee, but goddamnit, it was coffee. After being dragged out of bed in the middle of the night on a cross country drive she sure as hell wasn’t going to be picky. She had grabbed a couple of Red Bulls for good measure too, and now stood in front of the plate glass window watching Phoebe dozing in the car. Well, Kill thought she was dozing. She could just be pretending so she could avoid talking, but that was hardly necessary, Kill had no idea what to say anyway. Still, she supposed she had to say something. She drowned the rest of her coffee in one go, and moved back to the car. Phoebe didn’t even stir as she slammed the door behind her.
“Red bull?” she asked, half-heartedly holding the can out to her sister. When no response was forthcoming, Kill sighed and placed the cans in the cup holders. She moved to turn the key in the ignition but stopped, turning in her seat to face her sister again.
“Pheebs?” she began, “Pheebs look at me please.”
Phoebe sniffled. “I’m trying to sleep here.”
“Yeah, funny thing, I was trying to do that not too long ago myself.”
Kill waited, but her sister seemed completely shut off. Taking a deep breath, she decided to go for the obvious.
“Phoebe, what happened?” she asked gently, resting a hand on her arm, “Did something happen with Van?”
Phoebe jerked upright like a current had run through her. She rounded on Kill, eyes burning. “I don’t want to talk about Van!”
Kill gaped at her, startled at the severity of the reaction. Before she could respond, Phoebe slumped back into her seat, looking so utterly defeated, Kill could hardly believe it was actually her sister.
“Just take me home Kiley, please” she mumbled, turning her face back to the window, “I just want to go home.”

~

Kill pulled up outside Phoebe’s apartment feeling utterly spent. It wasn’t just the five hours worth of driving in the middle of the bloody night that did it, it was the sense that her sister was falling apart and there was nothing she could do about it. They hadn’t spoken at all on the drive back into town and except for the brief exchange when Kill tried to convince Phoebe to come back home with her to which Pheebs had reacted violently against, there was nothing but a draining silence in the car. Kill had no idea what had happened and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Whatever it was, it had to have been bad. She’d never seen Phoebe like this, and she couldn’t even begin to imagine what could have led to it. All she knew was that she desperately wanted to take it away. Whatever was crushing her sister, she wanted to make it disappear and make sure it never came back. She had no idea how to do that though. If there was one thing Kill hated more than anything else, more than cinnamon sticks or vanilla or driving at night, it was feeling helpless. So when Phoebe eventually managed to get out of the car, and stumble along the path to her apartment block, all Kill could think to do was to run after her and just draw her into the biggest, tightest hug she could possible give. Phoebe seemed resistant at first, unwilling to be touched, but eventually she relented and allowed Kill to just hold on to her for a bit.
“Do you want me to stay?” Kill asked quietly.
“No.” Phoebe drew in a shaky breath, shaking her head slightly. “No, I just need space. And time. Time’s good.”
Kill pulled back to look at her. “Are you sure?”
Phoebe nodded.
“Call me, ok?”
Phoebe nodded again.
“Will you be – ” Kill began, but Pheebs interrupted, waving her hand.
“Fine, fine. Go. I’ll call.”
Kill took one last uncertain look at her before moving back to the car. She buckled her seatbelt and watched her sister’s form disappear into her apartment block. Taking a shaky breath of her own, Kill pulled away from the kerb. She ran two red lights on the way home, the last one earning her an angry beep from another driver. Kill found she didn’t care. She also didn’t care whether a licence made her more useful to a touring band. All she cared about was that for once she could actually be of some use to her sister. Huh, Kill thought as she finally pulled into the driveway, the ends justify the means. Who would have thought it?

Music: Good to know if I ever need attention - Brand New
Mood: Tired

Concrete and water

I have just promptly fallen in love with this...it reminds me of someone, some people perhaps even. Use your imagination.

Through the ghoul-guarded gateways of slumber,
Past the wan-mooned abysses of night,
I have lived o'er my lives without number,
I have sounded all things with my sight;
And I struggle and shriek ere the daybreak,
being driven to madness with fright.

I have whirled with the earth at the dawning,
When the sky was a vaporous flame;
I have seen the dark universe yawning
Where the black planets roll without aim,
Where they roll in their horror unheeded, without
knowledge or lustre or name.

I had drifted o'er seas without ending,
Under sinister grey-clouded skies
That the many-forked lightning is rending,
That resound with hysterical cries;
With the moans of invisible daemons that out
of the green waters rise.

I have plunged like a deer through the arches
Of the hoary primordial grove,
Where the oaks feel the presense that marches
And stalks on where no spirit dares rove,
And I flee from a thing that surrounds me, and leers
through dead branches above.

I have stumbled by cave-riddled mountains
That rise barren and bleak from the plain,
I have drunk of the frog-foetid fountains
That ooze down to the marsh and the main;
And in hot cursed tarns I have seen things I care not
to gaze on again.

I have scanned the vast ivy-clad palace,
I have trod its untenanted hall,
Where the moon rising up from the valleys
Shows the tapestried things on the walls;
Strange figures dischordantly woven, that I cannot
endure to recall.

I have peered from the casements in wonder
At the mouldering meadows around,
At the many-roofed village laid under
The curse of a grave-girdled ground;
And from rows of white urn-carven marble I listen
intently for sound.

I have haunted the tombs of the ages,
I have flown on the pinions of fear
Where the smoke-belching Erebus rages;
Where the jokulls look snow-clad and drear:
And in realms where the sun of the desert consumes
what it never can cheer.

I was old when the pharoahs first mounted
The jewel-decked throne by the Nile;
I was old in those epochs uncounted
When I, and I only, was vile;
And Man, yet untainted and happy, dwelt in bliss on
the far Arctic isle.

Oh, great was the sin of my spirit,
And great is the reach of its doom;
Not the pity of Heaven can cheer it,
Nor can respite be found in the tomb:
Down the infinite aeons come beating the wings of
unmerciful gloom.

Through the ghoul-guarded gateways of slumber,
Past the wan-mooned abysses of night,
I have lived o'er my lives without number,
I have sounded all things with my sight;
And I struggle and shriek ere the daybreak, being
driven to madness with fright.

Nemesis by HP Lovecraft

Music: Jaws Swimming Theme
Mood: Creative

It's these expressions I never give

Blah blah blah. Sigh.

Bloody html, always gets the better of me. I made a new layout type thing for the blog, but as yet cannot get the damn coding to work the way I want it to. I’m going in blind too cause my Dreamweaver trial’s run out…would it be sad to go to uni so I can work on my blog? I don’t know if the labs are open tho *ponders* It eats so much time! I realise it’s probably just practice, the more you read html, the more sense it makes, it’s just frustrating…and I really like my layout. Sigh.

This morning was spent in bed watching Merlin and um…damn it, can’t say. Who knew my resolve would be challenged so soon? Oh nevermind, I knew it would be hard. But yes, Merlin. The first six episodes are now done and dusted. That boy is gorgeous…Arthur’s not bad either, but in a completely different way. As always with these shows though, the legend has been thrown out the window. I’m looking forward to getting the rest of ‘em. It is very good.

Work was…uneventful. As always. Baaaah Oreo is being needy. I’m gonna take her for a walk and hopefully she’ll be nice and tired when we get back…

Music: Heart of Gold - Neil Young
Mood: Lethargic

Got a half spirit and a loaded gun

Here starts my resolve not to mention anything vaguely related to the Whoniverse for a whole week. Sounds simple, but look at my last lot of posts. It's completely bloody ridiculous. Stupid cult television.

Anyway, if my random rambling proves anything, it's that nothing has really been happening around here. I still haven't cleared out my room, or organised anything. As always, my apathy is remarkable.

I'm thinking of maybe going to Melbourne for a weekend or so. Qantas are having a sale. Or I could save that for going to New Zealand instead, Lizzie and I have been talking about it.

Why is it I can always think of so many things I want to do in my holidays but when actually on holiday, I don't do any of it? Instead I sit around in my pjs watching old James Bond movies. Fox Classics appear to be showing two a day. It reminds me of being back in Europe, all we seemed to watch when we happened to be in a hotel long enough was Bond movies and Top Gear. What I find amusing is that they have all this stuff that was considered high tech for the time which now equates to photoshop. Maybe that's why the newer Bond movies are avoiding the tech issue all together, dates less easily.

Music: The overworked hum of my laptop
Mood: Lazy

Do what you want, when you want

From a conversation with Abs this morning :

A: You really like your bad boys don’t you…the master…eric
J: Haha I guess I do
A: dark, dark, dark
J: Probably some psychological thing there
J: I think maybe I just like them damaged
A: There's more than 1 kind of damage
A: You like them properly fucked up

And I realised truer words have probably never been typed. It’s always been like that, and I suppose that asks a few questions of me. There’s just something…I don’t know. I like the complication, the complexity of character, the various multitudes of emotions and experiences that leads to it. I have an icon appropriate to this which reads You taste like self-destruction. It is probably going to bite me in the ass someday.

But at least my Torchwood fandom is being put to good use as I can offer detailed commentary on episodes while stuck at work. Ah my obsessiveness, bless.

Ooooh, check this out - “Cosmic Superstorm Feared”

As always in moments when the universe presents a catastrophe to remind the human race of just how useless and insignificant we actually are, I look to the sky and wait for that Blue Box to finally appear, hurry up goddamnit.

"The forecast is based in part on a similarly sized solar storm that took place in 1859..."

Hmmm. That couldn’t perhaps have something to do with Jack space-hopping over from Satellite 5, could it? [Yes I know, 1869. Shh. Let me amuse myself.]

They make it too easy to scoff at their portents of doom. How often do they predict horrific events that either never happen or are not nearly as severe as they expected? Look at that whole CERN hadron collider thing from last year. I was supporting “They said the world was ending” as a valid excuse for not doing any assignments, but did they deliver? Of course not. Instead of a black hole, we got a big fat nothing…which in theory sounds like the same thing, but without the destruction of reality, it’s not nearly as exciting – also how do people actually know what a black hole does? It’s not like anyone’s gone into one to have a look. For all we know you could end up in Avalon or, better yet, Valinor! *eyes glaze over* Anyway, a big part of Astronomy is just speculation and I can’t help feeling that if we ever have the technology to test any of this stuff out, everyone is going to look back at astronomers and laugh. In fact, wasn’t that whole CERN experiment in general a total bust up? It worked for a few days and then there was some sort of fault. I can’t help feeling that the major concern here shouldn’t be potential black holes, but rather the structural integrity of Geneva, what with all these massive tunnels and potential colliding atoms underneath it. All I learnt from the whole thing is that particle collision is just as uneventful in real life as it was studying it for physics; and just as unreliable as my ability to recall Maxwell’s equations correctly in that very same subject (oh my god, my head hurts just trying to even remember…and I actually passed this fucking subject, oh yes I did. Take that Faraday’s law! I am supreme ruler of the universe! A ruler with a very basic grasp of equations, it's true, but I’m good on the theories! Promise. Actually, I’d recommend taking physics to anyone – painful as it is, it’s endlessly useful, and probably one of the only subjects I took at school that is).

I realise sun flares are a real and valid concern, what with its history of knocking out communication and so forth, but really, there’s nothing we can do about it anyway, is there? It’s not like we can flick the sun-flare shield on to protect the infrastructure. Besides that kind of technology is always kind of unreliable. If movies and television teach us anything, it is that these things hardly ever end well…have you seen ‘The Impossible Planet/The Satan Pit’, or better yet ‘42’? Death by star/spacial region it shall be.

I, for one, would like to know why people continue to panic when the world is ending. What’s the point of spending your last few moments in a complete state of stress? I suggest grabbing a cocktail, pulling up a lawn chair, and sitting back to watch it all go to hell. Sure, it sucks, and sure, you don’t want to die, but thinking this and running around screaming is not going to change anything. So you might as well enjoy yourself, as John Hart would say - “Five minutes to live and you want me to behave?!” I am clearly from the Time Agency School of Dying.



The last time I was sentenced to death, I ordered four hyper-vodkas for my breakfast. All a bit of a blur after that... I woke up in bed with both of my executioners. Lovely couple, they stayed in touch! Can't say that about most executioners.

Huh. This is a very random post…and all this because of a article on sun flares *shakes head at self*

Music: Daddy's Gone - Glasvegas
Mood: Silly