Shut up and let me see your jazz hands

Waiting for a download to finish and it's taking foreeeeever. Sigh. Slow internet is slow. Nearly all the internationals over for Worldcon complained about the Aussie internet. Oi government...wait do we have a government? I forget.

No new developments really. Hardly surprising since my life consists mainly of going to work. September is socially a lot quieter than some of the previous months, but I need some downtime too, so I'm enjoying it. Also I'm supposed to be doing uni assignments, so having free time to procrastinate work on it is definitely a plus.

I've got two presentations/essays when I go back. One is on postmodernism, I'm thinking of mainly making it about twitter. The other is on 'Interpretations of a theme' with the texts being All About Eve and Election. I haven't actually seen Election properly so I will have to rent that, but I figure I'll try to make mention of Sherlock *shrugs* Fandom serves me well.

My copy of David Tennant's Hamlet arrived yesterday so I'm expecting the Sherlock DVD to show up tomorrow. Friday night entertainment sorted. Well, and I still have to watch The Departed and an insane backlog of Lie to Me, Human Target and Fringe. There aren't enough hours in the day. I'm still working my way through season 3 of Buffy. It wasn't really doing much for me to be honest, but Wesley has showed up and things finally seem to be getting itneresting - six eps to go. Hm. At Aussiecon, Cory Doctorow said you're not going to look back at your life one day and wish you watched more television...I don't know, I think I might. There's a lot I want to watch.

None of this would be a problem if I didn't actually have to sleep, you know. Or work. That wastes a lot of valuable time too. Priorities - I don't have them.

Speaking of things arriving, got my Adam Lambert ticket today. I'm not going to lie, I am stupidly excited about this. I mean really excited. Hey, everyone deserves a little Glambert in their lives. What's not to love?

As I mentioned before, I've been neglecting music lately, very sad. But I'm going to You, Me, At Six on Sunday, and I'm contemplating the Against Me! gig the week after. Oh and Muse in December. Hmmm, Muse *happy place*....Wait, what was I talking about? Other than that I'm just desperately hoping The Gaslight Anthem will be doing a Soundwave sideshow because I've never seen them live and I do adore them so. There are a couple of bands I'd be keen to see do some sideshows - I just really don't want to go to the festival.

Well this download is apparently being carried along the phone line by a snail, so I think I might cut my losses and call it a night. Can fit some reading in before midnight!

Compartmentalise, that's the key!

PS: HARRY POTTER. Aaaaaah! It gives me chills. It means the end of my childhood is officially nigh, but still! Chills! I think I should blow off work and go to the midnight premiere. See the aforementioned lack of priorities.


Music: NaNaNa - My Chemical Romance
Mood: Bored Now

Whedon, writing, insecurities and other such stuff

Another weekend without uni productivity. Someone slap me. Actually, nevermind that now, I'm busy. Have I pointed out how I am not cut out for a 9-5 (or rather more aptly 8-5) full-time job? Because I am so not. Ooooooh so not. Mind stagnation rebels at.

Can't believe the weekend is over already. Not looking forward to work tomorrow and having to rustle up the remaining profiles and intros. Then we start the entire damnable process all over again, it's so repetitive that stabbing myself in the eye seems like a reasonable way to liven things up. But seriously, it's so annoying to be so busy all the time and definitely not good for my writing drive - I haven't done any writing since I've been working there and seeing as that is what I want to do with my miserable existence, that is not good people. Aaaah.

Speaking of writing, had an absolutely terrifying crisis of faith yesterday where, as I was reading over the first chapter of the novel I'd started workshopping last semester, I was entirely convinced that it was rubbish and entirely not what I was trying to say. I was at the hairdressers at the time which meant I had to suppress my horror, but it was not fun. I need to write Chapter 2 and 3 by Wednesday, so I can workshop it in class next week. That's going to be a fun Tuesday night. I was just feeling really miserable that this is the life I have damned myself to - and not entirely out of choice either, this is just what I do. I can't help it. Writing is the one thing I've been able to stick to through my long line of obsessions, it's the one thing I haven't given up on because I didn't want to have to work to be perfect. I think writing is particularly well suited to perfectionists, because no writer is ever happy, there is no real line that you can reach and say this is perfection, it just won't happen. So I don't give up on it. I just keep writing cause my mind keeps turning out these scenes and lines and I must do something with them.

Anyway, writers know the mood I'm talking about - the one where you are entirely convinced everything you do is utterly useless and you're wasting your life. We're all there at some point or another. I blame this sudden onset of self-doubt on my all my writing theory classes because it has made me question absolutely everything about my writing, resulting in agonising over themes that could be read into that I wasn't actually intending, or whether the point of view I've chosen is working, whether the setting is appropriate or should I rather go for speculative fiction, whether it wouldn't work better with two protagonists, flashbacks and the most worryingly, whether anyone would read a story in which the protagonist isn't a hero, isn't entirely likable, and wherein in fact there are no heroes and no one is really redeemed. It'd be like reading a novel in which The Master was your lead. I'd read it, but I don't know if anyone else would. From what I understand commercially you're better off having someone the audience can relate to, and just because I like relating to sociopaths, doesn't mean anyone else does. I don't like writing literary fiction, so genre fiction is all I have and I must cater to that audience, but at the same time I want to write the characters I want to write, tell the stories I believe in.

As I was moping through my files, trying to find something I'd written that was even halfway decent and profusely cursing my writing lecturer, I stumbled upon a NaNo pep talk from a few years ago that really made me feel a lot better. I'll post it after this because it should be shared. Another thing that cheered me up was attending the Joss Whedon talk at the Opera House this afternoon. R, M and I had a lovely giggly lunch before settling in for the ninety-minute talk that was part Joss discussing where he writes from and why, and part Q&A led by the always wonderfully funny Wil Anderson.

First off, let me just say what an absolutely nice guy Joss seems to be. He's entirely unassuming, gracious, as witty as you'd expect him to be, and he just respects his audience so much. It was so nice to be part of a fandom group that felt loved for a little while. A couple of things about this talk really resonated with me. I go to these talks more and more as an apprentice if you will, rather than a fan. It's comforting to hear people of such caliber speak about issues and experiences in writing that I can identify in myself even now, though I am not much. It's like being told 'Don't worry, you're on the right track.'

I found it rather interesting that Joss said fanfiction was the greatest compliment you could ever be paid by your fans, because it means you've created something they love enough to dedicate hours to. That's such a different thing you normally hear from people on this subject, and I thought it was rather lovely. The character death issue came up, of course, and Joss is entirely right in saying that death needs to happen - but that it should be meaningful, that people should feel something, and that it should have a point. He mentioned that he had no idea what a big deal Willow and Tara would be, and he mentioned that he developed a story arc to bring Tara back to life, but that Amber couldn't do it, which I think alludes to the notion that once he discovered what a big deal Tara actually was to his fans, he wanted to fix it. Another thing that stood out was his mention of Firefly, and how losing it was incredibly painful because it is like a child to him. He went on to say that he learnt so much about grief during that process, because it is something you absolutely never get over. You merely learn to deal with it and adapt to life without it - like losing an arm and learning to tie your shoes with one hand - but the grief never truly goes away.

Overall though, it was a very enlightening and amusing talk and I just left feeling inspired and energised about the whole thing. The overwhelming sense of the event to me was just the feeling of how much he respects his characters (he said he wants his characters to love him so much that he becomes them), his worlds, and his fans - ultimately I think it's because of this attitude that he gets away with being dark and destroying the things his fans love, his fans forgive him in the end because there's a greater purpose to it and there's a trust there that he doesn't take them for granted, and indeed, that he knows what he's doing.

So thanks to Joss Whedon and Neil Gaiman, I'm feeling much better about this self-imposed torture known as writing again, even though I know I'll probably never be even a fraction as successful as they are. A girl can dream right? And let's face it, when you're stuck in this banal cycle of routine that is my life right now, dreams are all I have.

Oh and I finally bought my plane ticket to Melbourne - now I just need to get time off....yes, I know, I'm doing it all backwards, whatever. I'm going to Aussiecon and work can't stop me.

One last thing, I've recently rediscovered my Tumblr. If it seems like I'm neglecting things here, it's merely cause I don't have time and I'm wasting what little I have re-blogging nonsense over there.

Music: Data, Data, Data - Hans Zimmer
Mood: Could do with some tea actually

Wait a minute, this sounds like Science and or Fiction

This is great. The result of the Top 200 SFX character polls, celebrating the 200th issue of SFX.

Here’s the top 3 of every category, followed by my two cents cause I’m geeky like that.

> Favourite Robots & Androids

1. R2D2 (Star Wars)
2. Data (Star Trek: Next Gen)
3. Bender (Futurama)

Everyone loves R2D2, or as C3PO would say the “overweight glob of grease” or “near-sighted scrap pile”. Speaking of R2’s counterpart, he comes in at number 12. No one likes a whinger, C3PO. The Terminator is “back” in 8 (haha see what I did there...never mind) while he of the pointless soliloquy, Optimus Prime, is 9th. I love that KITT is on the list – I used to think KITT was the coolest. It’s one of those things I’d have thought would just fade away into obscurity, but no, clearly talking cars still have it.

> Favourite Monsters, Supernatural Beings & Fantasy Creatures

1. Daleks (Doctor Who)
2. Lorne (Angel)
3. Aliens (um, Alien)

Honourable mention to Gollum, who came in fifth. Yay LOTR. Also Ludo from Labyrinth in 15, and ‘The Great Dragon’ from Merlin in 18...that poor dragon, if he could facepalm I’m sure he would.

> Favourite Superheroes & Comic-Book Characters

1. Batman
2. Wolverine
3. Spider-Man

How does Mr. Whiny Boredom Pants (aka Spider-Man) manage to get to third beating out both Death and Morpheus (6 and 8 respectively) from The Sandman, and Iron Man (10th)? I mean really, Iron Man! Peter should hit Tony up for some personality, and then maybe I’d give him a break.

> Favourite Alien

1. Spock (Star Trek)
2. Yoda (Star Wars)
3. Zaphod Beeblebrox (The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy)

The Star Trek franchise pretty much owns this category, 5 on the list, with Babylon 5 coming in with 4.

> Favourite Sages, Mentors and Boffins

1. Rupert Giles (Buffy The Vampire Slayer)
2. Topher Brink (Dollhouse)
3. Gandalf (Lord of the Rings)

This one’s pretty great actually. Obi Wan at 4, Walter from Fringe at 5; Back to the Future’s Doc Brown comes in at 8 followed by Dumbledore. Sirius Black is at 11, which should please Miss L, and adorably Alfred from Batman takes out 14. I’m slightly perplexed why Uther is in 16 – shouldn’t it be Gaius? I mean all Uther does is shriek “Magicz! Kill it!” (see also: Dom’s Merlin post of WIN)

> Favourite Villains

1. The Master (Doctor Who)
2. Darth Vader (Star Wars)
3. The Joker (Batman)

No surprises here. The pic included is sadly not of John Simm’s Master, but what can you do? Davros and Voldemort come in at 5 and 6, while that idiotic Sylar from Heroes is in 7th. I find it amusing that Jareth from Labyrinth is in 10th, I guess with all that singing and prancing about, he just didn’t strike me as that villainous (I so love that movie.)

> Favourite Anti-Heroes, Accidental Good Guys and Dodgy Do-Gooders

1. Dr Horrible (Dr Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog)
2. Jayne Cobb (Firefly)
3. Captain John Hart (Torchwood)

I love the title of this section so, so much. Dodgy Do-Gooders! Win. And the top three freaking rules. Yes, freaking, I’m a nineties skater kid. Also, if you haven’t seen Dr. Horrible, you really should, it is made of win – I’ll give you the equation: Joss Whedon + Neil Patrick Harris + Nathan Fillion = Awesome. Snape takes out fourth *huggles* and Life on Mars’ Gene Hunt comes in at 5. These are all pretty cool really, as anti-heroes inevitably are.

> Favourite Vampires

1. Dracula
2. Spike (Buffy The Vampire Slayer)
3. Angel (Buffy The Vampire Slayer)

You can tell these are proper sci-fi voters cause Edward Cullen is only 14th, haha. I think Spike is my favourite vampire (Angel rather gets on my nerves sometimes), and I quite like Mitchell from Being Human – he came in fourth. Drusilla is 5th with Eric from True Blood in 6th – interestingly enough Bill only makes it in at 18. One of my other faves, Lestat, is 11th – kept out of the top 10 by Mick from Moonlight, Selene from Underworld, Buffy’s Darla and Count Duckula. I think he deserves to be above the last two at least! Blade’s in 17th and the only other Cullen clan member to make the list is – dun dun dun – Jasper! Excellent *steeples fingers*

> Favourite Hero

1. The Doctor (Doctor Who)
2. Malcolm ‘Mal’ Reynolds (Firefly)
3. Dean Winchester (Supernatural)

Drinks all round! The Doctor is, of course, the ultimate. They’re all brilliant characters and not only fun, but also engaging to watch. I’d like to point out that everyone’s favourite dearly departed fictional welsh boyfriend, one Ianto Jones, made it in 5th – beating out Han Solo, Indiana Jones Wesley from Angel & Buffy, and Captain Jack Harkness. Hahaha, they’re not going to like that (childish, I know, forgive me.)

> Favourite Heroine

1. Sarah Conner (Terminator franchise)
2. Buffy Summers (Buffy The Vampire Slayer)
3. River Tam (Firefly)

I adore River so much – so completely crazy, so completely kick-ass. Representing the Whoniverse, we have Donna, Rose and Sarah Jane in 4, 8, and 10. For the Whedonverse, there’s Willow, Faith and Kaylee in 9, 15 and 16. I love that Emma Peel makes the list at 11 (I must get The Avengers box set!), and Starbuck from Battlestar is in 13. I’d totally have put in Martha, as I've mentioned before I feel she is greatly overlooked ninety nine percent of the time.

That rounds off the list. You can still get involved in the whole thing – vote for The Ultimate Best SF or Fantasy Character Ever, consisting of the winners of each category, here. Be geeky, you know you want to.

Music: Help - The Beatles
Mood: Relaxed

The Role Model Conundrum

This is a post I’ve been contemplating for aaaaages. It dates back to a few months ago when Kim Kardashian was in the country for...well whatever it is she does. She got so much press coverage and it slightly terrifies me that girls consider women like her and Paris Hilton role models, that they aspire to be like them.

That got me thinking about role models. It’s a concept I’ve always found slightly odd because I never really had one – at least I didn’t think I did. I never looked up to someone and thought when I grow up, I want to be like you. There are women however that I admire/d, of course there are – a lot of them are fictional, but still. So, I thought I might compile a list, and what are blogs for if not for precisely this silly reason?

The first woman I adored was neither real, nor human. She was in fact an anthropomorphised Dalmatian called Princess Dalma from my favourite television show as a child. In English the show is known as Dogtanian and the Three Muskehounds, an animated adaptation of Dumas’ novel about d’Artagnan and the Three Musketeers. I of course saw the show in Afrikaans and I loved it so much, you have no idea. My mother taped it for me and I’d just watch it over and over again – I have in fact transferred it over to DVD, and have every episode except 3, I think. A small number anyway.

Anywho, Dalma appears in the second season, The Return of Dogtanian, and is the cousin of Louis XIV King of France. Invited by Queen Anne, she travels up from Italy and the Musketeers are supposed to meet her at the border and escort her to Paris. On the way however, they are distracted by a masked stranger robbing a coach. A fight ensues but the masked stranger is too good for them and escapes - leaving only a black rose as a calling card. Disheartened and pressed for time, they have to let it go and meet Princess Dalma.

What follows is a three or four episode arc (can’t quite remember) of this brazen thief robbing everyone, including the guests at a ball held in Princess Dalma’s honour, and Cardinal Richelieu – the Musketeers come up with a cunning plan to catch the stranger but it intersects with the major story arc of the whole season that involves the King’s evil twin (based on Dumas’ The Man In The Iron Mask) and anyway, long story short, the thief is ‘rescued’ by the evil twin who wants to form an alliance. The thief however refuses and escapes, and this time joins up with the musketeers to fight off the evil twin’s men. In the end, the masked thief promises to forsake criminal activity in France as thanks for being rescued and agrees to be unmasked...dun dun dun


Yep, the thief that’s kicked everyone’s ass for 90% of the episode arc is one and the same as the King’s delicate cousin, Princess Dalma. Blew my mind, it did. And sure, it’s about as obvious as Clark Kent being Superman, but I was 4 at the time and it’s a kids show, give me a break. She’s clever, funny, skilled, and totally charming. She rocked my world. I got a sword and a cape shortly thereafter, and have had an obsession with black roses ever since.

I’ve gotten all giddy thinking about this show actually. I just adore it so much, to this day even. Some parts of childhood will never lose their magic. It’s actually even more hilarious these days because the Afrikaans insults they constantly throw about just cause all sorts of ridiculousness for days in my house if it’s mentioned.

That’s where it started, and if I had to draw up a short list of chicks I think rock, this is what it would be:

> Belle – Beauty & the Beast

Following on Princess Dalma was Belle, the girl who never quite fitted in, lived vicariously through her books and dreamt of adventure. Instead of sitting around waiting for stuff to happen, like Cinderella, Belle goes out and gets right into things. She’s impulsive, will speak her mind, and not afraid to flaunt convention. She isn’t superficial or selfish – hell, the one thing she always craved is freedom and adventure, yet to save her father she gives that all up in an instant. It will come as no surprise that she is my favourite Disney Princess.



Gaston: How can you read this? There's no pictures!
Belle: Well, some people use their imagination.

> Max – Dark Angel

Max Guevara (aka X5-452 and she’s got a barcode on the back of her neck to prove it) was the protagonist of the television show Dark Angel, possibly my first real immersion in a sci-fi based universe, and steampunk sensibility. Played by a then relatively unknown Jessica Alba, Max is a genetically enhanced super soldier who escaped a covert military facility known as ‘Manticore’ as a child. She spends her time trying to live a normal life as a bike courier in a post-apocalyptic Seattle, and trying to find the eleven others who also escaped the facility, while avoiding re-capture by the government. She becomes involved with the cyber-journalist Logan Cale after she robs his apartment, and the pair then join forces – she helps him to fight corruption in this bleak world, and in turn he helps her track down her family. This show was canned after two seasons, and the second was pretty terrible I suppose, but I love Max. She’s sassy, daring, and ready to take on anyone – she’s was the coolest nineteen year old on television in my mind, and she had a nice bike.



“Girls kick ass, says so on a t-shirt.”

> Abby Sciuto – NCIS

Here’s the thing, Abby Sciuto is cooler, cuter and cleverer than you. Abby (short for Abigail, but only Ducky is allowed to call her that) is a forensic specialist at NCIS (Naval Criminal Investigation Service), the institute from which the show takes its name. From the same fictional world as JAG, NCIS is essentially a crime show about, well, naval crimes. Abby I feel is best described by Special Agent Tony DiNozzo, “a paradox wrapped in an oxymoron smothered in contradictions in terms. Sleeps in a coffin. Really, the happiest goth you'll ever meet.” Sums it all up really. She’s bouncy, completely over- enthusiastic, is addicted to a caffeine-based drink called Caff-Pow, never goes outside without her parasol, listens to death metal while she works, has the best repartee with Gibbs and is nothing short of brilliant at her work. She is played by Pauley Perrette, who actually has a degree in criminal science herself and is an all round amazingly accomplished person. Abby is the most adorable person on television at any one time, but don’t let the happy exterior fool you – people have tried to mess with her before and they’ve all come off second best.



”Good news and bad news Gibbs. Good news is I'm still cute. Bad news, the bomb squad got a little trigger happy."

> Ziva David – NCIS

Speaking of NCIS, I am forever thankful Sasha Alexander decided to leave the show, necessitating the killing off of her character Caitlin Todd and paving the way for Ziva David, played by Cote de Pablo. Ziva is an Israeli Mossad agent assigned as NCIS liaison after a Mossad agent goes rogue and assassinates Cate. That agent turns out to be Ziva’s brother, who she has to kill herself in order to save Gibbs’ life. Ziva is a product of her environment, raised in tumultuous circumstances in Israel with her father being the director of Mossad, while her younger sister was killed in a Hamas suicide bombing when she was 16. During her time at Mossad, Ziva was part of a special unit that specialised in assassinations, paramilitary operations, sabotage, and psychological warfare. She is a competent soldier, always in control, completely calm and aloof, drives like a lunatic, isn’t intimidated by authority, and is generally not one to be trifled with. She has an air of confidence about her, but as the seasons go on, she reveals vulnerability and she’s torn between her past and the life she’s found at NCIS. Her misuse and misunderstandings of pop culture and slang as she settles into American life is a great source of humour for most of the show so far. I’ve always admired Ziva for her skill and her ability to be calm and controlled, and her ability to get under Tony’s skin, but I totally came onboard with her during an episode where she strong-arms a red-neck sheriff for slandering Islam to a Muslim suspect in hospital. She’s amazing – and she can kill you in eighteen ways with a paperclip.



Ziva: When you insult his religion, you insult mine and your own. Tell him you're sorry.
Deputy Tyler Barret: [quietly] Sorry.
Ziva: I don't think he heard you.
Deputy Tyler Barret: I'm sorry!
Masoud Tariq: Apology accepted.

McGee: You know that's how Houdini died.
Tony: Ziva, did you kill Houdini?
Ziva: It is possible. I do not remember all their names.



Abby: Wanna talk knives?
Ziva: Always

Side note: This show is actually very good, you know. The characters are brilliantly rounded and the team interaction, between every single one of them, is utterly believable and engaging.

> Veronica Mars – Veronica Mars

As a devourer of Nancy Drew books as a girl, I was destined to fall head over heels for Veronica Mars, a show that’s been described by Stephen King as Nancy Drew meets Phillip Marlowe. With its incredible noir sensibility, the show follows Veronica Mars as she progresses from High School to College while moonlighting as a private investigator, The first season is concerned with discovering the truth behind her best friend Lilly Kane’s murder, an event that caused her own life to fall apart. Her father, Keith the former county sheriff, loses his job over the incident and he sets up his own private detective business where Veronica, alienated from her old friends, picks up tips of the trade if you will. Veronica, played by Kristen Bell, is resourceful, sharp, snarky, and embodies a true outsider-and-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude. Veronica is stead-fast and committed to her cause, no amount of personal drama will slow her down. Sometimes she jumps to conclusions, and she can be single-minded if she thinks she has the answer, but that’s what makes her human. At the end of the day, everything Veronica does, she does with attitude and skill.



Veronica: Did you hear something last night?
Keith: What kind of something?
Veronica: Like a loud thump from upstairs.
Keith: I don't know. But you know me, I can sleep through an earthquake. Why?
Veronica: I don't know. It sounded like a falling body. It really freaked me out.
Keith: A falling body?
Veronica: Yes, a falling body.
Keith: Would you describe the sound as "Hitchcockian"?
Veronica: I'm glad you're able to entertain yourself.
Keith: Oh, sweetie, don't sell yourself short. I find you completely entertaining.

> Martha Jones – Doctor Who

Look, I’ve ummed and aaahed and given it some thought, but the more I think about it, the more I think Martha is my favourite companion. I know this is not the popular or fashionable call, but I don’t care. I think Martha gets a rough deal in the fandom, barely anyone seems to like her – frankly I think it’s just the Rose lovers harbouring resentment, which is cool, I get resentment, but I’m setting up camp with Team Martha for a number of reasons. For one thing, the Doctor is a real jerk ninety percent of the time in Season 3 – time and time again; it’s up to her to make her own way while Mister Time Lord keeps her dangling on a string. Hell for the first few episodes, he keeps saying he’s taking her home. Martha is in love with him (of course she is, it’s only logical) but I never found her pining to be annoying – Ten was doing just as much pining over Rose really, when you think about it. Considering this, Martha is by far the strongest companion, both emotionally and physically. She had to be. She had to constantly handle things without the Doctor – in Family of Blood it’s on all on her to protect him, in Blink she’s the one who has to get a job while they’re stuck, and then she has to wander the earth for a year in order to save the world. Can you say raw deal? Her emotions never compromised her ability to do what was needed of her, and she never asked for anything from the Doctor. Martha, as a trainee doctor, is intelligent, compassionate and has the patience of a saint. There’s no way she would have been able to put up with the crap above if not for these qualities. She has her insecurities and her failures of course, it’s to be expected, but to me her sensibility, judgement, determination, humour and intelligence wins out. She has such a good-natured spirit and she means well, and in the end she’s has the strength and common sense to walk away when she knows it’s necessary. Martha didn’t need the Doctor anymore, and in fact, through that entire season, the Doctor needed her more than she ever needed him. She never stops helping him though, essentially doing what he does just on earth and fighting the good fight. In the end, she isn’t even bitter or resentful about any of it, she is genuinely happy when the Doctor finds Rose again. It was all going so brilliantly until they had her end up with Mickey. Blargh, damn idiots. Martha is so much better than that (What’s worse according to the guys at the TW panel, it was all done as a last ‘Smith & Jones’ joke. Sigh. Honestly.)



Martha: What’s that?
The Doctor: Sonic screwdriver.
Martha: What else have you got – laser spanner?
The Doctor: I did, but it was stolen by Emmeline Pankhurst. Cheeky woman.

The Doctor: Just think. When you get back, you could tell everyone that you've seen Shakespeare.
Martha: Yeah! And then I could get sectioned!

The Doctor: Martha Jones, you saved the world.
Martha: Yes I did. I spent a lot of time with you thinking I was second best, but you know what? I am good.

Honourable mentions go out to Emma Peel from The Avengers, Kat Stratford from 10 Things I Hate About You, Starbuck from Battlestar Galactica, Buffy, Sydney Bristow from Alias, and Amy Pond of Doctor Who for being the quirky thing she is.

These are all fictional women, because I think it’s much easier to latch onto these representations that real people – I can know characters completely, I can’t know famous people. Still, there are other options out there besides Kim Kardashian and the Paris posse – Megan Gale, for example, who would have to be the latest addition to my list of fabulous women. Just take a look beyond tabloid media, and they’re there, being awesome.

While I've never considered myself to have a role model, I think there’s something to be said for the fact that the first ever character I adored to bits was a kick-ass princess thief, and that I’ve always been drawn to strong, empowered women who could look after themselves, and the woman I consider myself to be. Of course this is in no small part also due to my mother who raised me to value those very things. I know I wouldn’t be the person I am if it wasn’t for her, and I tell her that regularly. My mum rocks, and so do the women on my list.

Music: Hey Jude - The Beatles
Mood: Relaxed

The hardest part is letting go of your dreams

There is so much I’ve been meaning to blog about, I just can’t seem to find the time. If I don’t sit down with my laptop straight away coming home from work, I just don’t do anything. It’s highly disconcerting considering I have quite a bit that needs to be done – and it will no doubt be an even bigger problem when I go back to uni in two weeks. Besides, I just miss rambling about nothing every day. Stupid "real life."

Things I intended to blog about:

> DVDs I've watched recently including Adam, Milk, and The Brothers Bloom.
Conclusion: Might want to consider more cheerful things. Adam was so painful, I could barely watch it. Brilliant, but painful. I quite liked The Brothers Bloom but I suspect it may be one of those films that no one else does.

> The girl with the dragon tattoo which I finished on the weekend.
I had my doubts starting this but there comes a point about halfway where it just starts working. It’s been aaaages since I’ve spent an entire afternoon just devouring pages like that at my own prerogative (ie not for uni) and I’ve forgotten how great that feels. Reading love. I was really enjoying the unconventional heroine too until the last chapter.

> Fourth season of Torchwood
Entertainment Weekly's Michael Ausiello had the following to say about new characters:

I’ve gathered on the new season (airing on my new favorite cable network,
Starz), the show is out to cast a new series regular — Rex Matheson, a wickedly
funny (operative word: wicked) CIA agent born to make waves. Almost as key to
the new season are recurring characters Esther Katusi, a CIA grunt in her early
20s who learns what she’s really made of only when she’s forced to, and Oswald
Jones, a convicted murderer and pedophile who will be as shocked as anyone to
learn how easily infamy and fame can be exchanged for one another.

Call me unprogressive if you like, but where’s the sci-fi? This just sounds like James Moran’s Girl Number 9. I don’t want high drama or the X files, I just want my cheesy show back, is that really so much to ask for? Normally I’d say give them the benefit of the doubt, but I frankly don’t see why I should.

> The Doctor Who finale
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Yup. That pretty much sums it up. You know, there might be a paper in running RTD and Moffat against each other – provided there isn’t one already (probably is, geeks are quick on the uptake and not as lazy as I am)

> Eclipse
My brain has either given up completely or the acting is getting better. It was surprisingly rather enjoyable. R and I were of course laughing in bits that weren’t meant to be funny, but somehow that’s become part of Twilight’s appeal. You go in knowing it’s not going to be cinematic genius and somehow that makes it ok. And this one actually has action (it’s in the talking scenes that this franchise truly falls apart) which is definitely a plus – especially since that action involves a lot of Jasper. I always liked Jasper and knowing he had a bigger role this time was definitely part of the reason I actually wanted to see Eclipse. Screw Edward and Jacob, Team Jasper ALL THE WAY. R and I still had a muttered running conversation for the duration of the film about Jacob and Edward. She’s very much pro-Jacob, and I – well, I have serious issues. My loathing for Cedric’s Edward is matched equally to my loathing of book-Jacob. I want to be pro-Edward, but my instinct is to mock Cedric, and I like movie-Jacob, but my instinct there is to run the character over. So I am sure you can imagine my dilemma.

Things that have happened:

> Dented another heart
> Visited the radio studio across the road
> Window shopped for costumes
> Applied for a press pass to world con
> Bought another pair of boots

Things I’m contemplating:

> The logistics of going away for a year

> The huge amount of work I’ve been slacking off on - this includes not doing any writing for myself lately, including blogging, and an essay I was supposed to submit a month ago.

> The giant hole in my budget caused by things such as unforeseen insurance premiums and ginormous roaming-inflated phone bills.

> Buffy season 3 - will it get less angsty, and how long do I have to wait for Spike to show up again?

> The glitch in the uni system that’s telling me I’ve failed a subject, which is highly improbable. I missed one class and got marked for all the assignments, so clearly someone screwed up somewhere along the line.

> The validity of buying a bustle skirt. This ties in with the previously mentioned costume window-shopping. Bustle dresses are too stupidly expensive to buy outright and I can’t justify having an eight hundred dollar dress sitting in my wardrobe for the occasional outing on halloween/fancy dress parties. It’s not exactly the right fit for a masquerade either, and that is generally where my "I must attend!" instincts go (and in my costume searchings I have found that there is a group that actually holds proper masquerade balls quite regularly). There is a masquerade ball at WorldCon in fact, so I’d like to get something that would do for both that and Halloween. Now I tried briefly to convince Em to make it for me – she wisely declined – and then thought hey, why not improvise? I have a dress I like to refer to as the Panic dress as I bought it with the then still vaudevillian Panic! At The Disco in mind. It is red with black lace overlay, tulle underskirt, and a corse-style top. I can get a red bustle to attach to it, make a matching long taffeta skirt to go underneath, and logically that should give me a layered, not quite historically accurate, bustle dress. Teamed with this red and black venetian mask I found on trusty eBay, gloves and fan I already own, and a Victorian velvet jacket, it should be a reasonable costume, right? Price wise, It should work out roughly the same as hiring a costume for a weekend would, and significantly less than actually getting a proper dress. Hmmm.

I have other things floating around this silly brain but sadly work beckons - but I'll be back to ramble some more later, never fear. Take a look at this in the meantime:

The Seven Stages of Grieving After Purchasing a Full-Price Hardcover Book You Later Find To Be Awful

A drink for the horror that I'm in
For the good guys, and the bad guys
For the monsters that I've been.
Three cheers for tyranny,
Unapologetic apathy
Cause there ain't no way I'm coming back again.

Best thing about Thursdays is being alone in the office and being able to give the trusty ipod free reign.

Music: Sleep - My Chemical Romance
Mood: Blah

Geek Quest 2010

Or how I learned to stop worrying and love the Melbourne Transport System*

* This is a complete lie, but oh well.

I blog to you now from the rapidly fading good-will of a fabulous weekend. I'm going to try something new, what I now dub twitterspersed blogging. Epic Ramble Warning. It will contain far more detail than anyone ever needed or in fact wanted to know, but hey, it's sectioned, and therefore easily navigated! We shall see how it works out.

"At the airport, my home away from home."

I spent Friday in a fairly panicked state until Lizzie arrived, by which point the mini-break became a reality and all worry futile. We had barely been at the airport five minutes when someone had already assumed we'd been drinking. This happens disturbingly often. Waiting passed in a pleasant haze of chatting, coffee, and people watching. The plane was slightly delayed, but we made it up in the flight. I feel the business class staff were greatly perplexed by this for they had no sooner given me a meal than the pilot was announcing our descent. I was not to be deterred and managed to finish both the hideous white wine and scathingly hot cup of coffee they'd given me. Better yet, I had managed to write three hundred words of my abstract. Productive flight is productive! I had a flash of poetic inspiration staring out the window as we banked over Melbourne, but it was fleeting.

"Love the flying, hate the bendy bus into the city."

There truly are few things I enjoy as much as I enjoy flying. I don't know what it is, but something about being on a plane just agrees with me. I was feeling quite chipper when we arrived in Melbourne. This lasted as long as it took to get on the bus into the city, one of those bendy things that jerk, shudder, and other things not conducive to those of us prone to car sickness. We'd managed to get forward facing seats at least which is always a plus. We could not arrive at the depot soon enough, but unfortunately no one had informed us that the hotel transfer shuttle bus only ran until 9.30. Sigh. We briefly entertained catching a train, but as it was dark and deserted, we opted for the easy way out and caught a taxi instead. Onwards!

"The Hilton check-in lady informs us they have boys to do things. Wonder what exactly this encompasses."

After what felt like an age, we finally arrived at the hotel and were promptly shown just how things were going to go as our bags were carried around for us. We tried our very hardest not to gape at the gorgeous lobby complete with ginormous chandelier, and tried not to giggle when the receptionist informed us in a highly suggestive manner that "here we have boys to do things for you." The facial expression of the man on duty with her was just priceless. Definitely frightened. We had a very amusing time taking this saying out of context for the rest of the weekend. I was very enthused by the room and even more enthused by the chance to get some sleep.

"It cannot possibly be seven thirty, it's far too dark...oh wait, it helps when you open the curtains."

When our alarm went off at seven thirty the next morning, we refused to believe it. It was completely dark in the room, it felt more like 4am and I certainly felt like I could do with another three hours sleep. Lizzie, being ever more conscientious than me when it comes to early rising times, was proactive in this getting up business, while the best I could do was stumble to the window with the silent vow in my heart that if it was this damn dark I was going straight back to sleep. I nearly went blind. Turns out, they just have really thick curtains and the sun was shining happily. I stumbled away and grudgingly got dressed.

"Coooffeeeeee! Giver of life."

Our early morning (anything before 9 is early morning for me) stumble around the city just reminded us of Dublin. That is to say, the place is utterly deserted and nothing is open. We found a cafe and had a nice breakfast outside, watching the life seep into the place. After wandering around and brief confusion as to where exactly we were going, we managed to find the tram that would deliver us to Geekdom. We immediately knew we were on the right tram too, because it contained a pokemon, a strawberry, some description of anime characters, and a samurai. It was also stupidly full and only became more so as the trip covered the same distance that lay between the Shire and Mordor.

"Have arrived at Supanova just in time to line up, as per usual."

Three years, and several travel companions later, we arrived at the Royal Showgrounds were all manner of creature was gathered. There was some amusing misdirection on our part as we kept missing the actual ticket area to get our wristbands. Once stickered, we had the joyous privilege of joining an impressively long line into the signing/panel building. Supanova Melbourne is split across two buildings - one that houses the conference room, anime theatre, and signing/photography booths; and the other that hosts the exhibitions. I can't say I like this set-up very much, I feel it detracts somewhat from the vibe you get when everything is shoved into one building and is utterly chaotic. The good type of chaotic, of course. But whatever.

We shuffled onwards, it seemed that practically three-quarters of the long line were also off to see the James Marsters panel. We were seated about halfway and the entire place was packed. All the people with questions were asked to line up on one side and, as the madness begun, Lizzie and I realised we really should have brought that flask we'd been joking about. I think we're actually lucky Lizzie has lived to tell the tale, cause she was virtually dying from mortification on behalf of everyone there. I devised a brilliant drinking game that required you to take a shot every time someone said "I love you" - we'd have been well sozzled long before the panel ended. To his credit, James Marsters is very good at this. He answers every question with an entertaining anecdote, and really makes it worth it. You can tell he's had tons of experience at this. He also clearly takes great joy in flirting with all the girls and causing their minds to evaporate. Allow me to demonstrate: -

Girl: Hello
JM: Hi there gorgeous
Girl: -breathless giggle - silence - silence - um...

I wish I could explain this in a way that would convey it properly, I nearly died from internalising my laughter. Meanwhile, next to me Lizzie was slinking lower from shared embarrassment. We deal with things in different ways. But yes, James seemed completely unflappable. I actually think there is something kind of tragic in these cons, the fact that here you have a man answering questions about something that happened nearly ten years ago, and he will no doubt be doing so for much of his remaining future. I was strongly reminded of the Xena episode of the Simpsons. It was very amusing though, and the only question I can actually remember was James being asked who he preferred, Sarah or John. For the record, he chose the latter.

"Crazy TW fans are really crazy. I mean I'm crazy, but they're...craaazy."

After learning the value of a deck of uno cards and nearly waiting in the wrong place, we spent a good deal of time waiting in line for the Gareth David-Lloyd panel. We were trapped between a cosplay girl sporting white wings that spanned what must have been 8ft (she had to go through doors sideways, took up an entire back row of chairs, could not turn around, and yes, she made them herself, I asked), a girl awaiting the arrival of her boyfriend (upon whom we inflicted ourselves), and the random Twilight booth next to the signing tables. Yes, a Twilight booth of all things. This of course meant that everyone was treated to my sporadic outbursts at poor Cedric. As you do.

The panel took place in a really nice room and we created another drinking game, this one for the awkward 'Hi' that seemed to precede every questions. We could really have benefited from a flask. Firstly, let's be clear here, when it comes to Torchwood, I am the first to admit that I am quite insane. I am completely aware of this. But in this panel I witnessed a whole other level of crazy. See, for one thing, I really have no investment in Gareth as a person. This sounds mean, but I adored a character he played, and they have absolutely nothing in common other than a gorgeous voice (beautiful welsh vowels, check and check.) For another, I internalise my madness and usually let it spill out in ranty blogs to much eye-rolling, I definitely do not externalise it in a panel. It's really no wonder RTD thought the fandom consisted of nine hysterical women, he probably had those nine accosting him. But as the girl next to me pointed out, it's the crazy ones who get up and talk, and that's the representation that then goes out. It had to be seen to be believed. The highlight was definitely the girl who just refused to accept GDL's answer when it wasn't the one she wanted, and kept saying "BUT IT'S A TIME TRAVEL SHOW!" with an increasingly hysterical inflection. Lizzie and I were nearly crying with laughter.

"Trams are still my least favourite form of public transport. Spent far too much time on them today already."

After milling about the exhibition hall and taking in some costumes - including a small child dressed as a dragon, a drag Leia, blue cat people, and a Link of Zelda fame in a disturbingly short tunic, we decided to head back into the city and hold onto what little sanity we could before returning in the evening. This involved another agonisingly slow tram, and my dislike for them was further cemented. I really do not like the things. It's sort of hilarious actually, I'm sure as often as Lizzie remarked the city was pretty, I'd just as often voiced my disapproval of the trams. I just find them to be an excruciatingly annoying form of transportation, and every time I have cause to think of Melbourne, I glower slightly at the thought of its beloved trams. In the end, we managed to have a late lunch and ambled back to the hotel only to sit in some sort of brain dead stupor watching some weird documentary-esque show on SBS.

"Note to self: The french martini and campari princess cocktails are not to be had again. Repeat - never again!"

The one thing that had become abundantly clear to me along the course of the day was that we were going to need alcohol if we were to get through the James Masters concert that evening. All dolled up, I decreed it cocktail hour so off to the Hilton bar we went...oh my god, you have no idea what horror we encountered there. I suspect the drinks had been strained through a mouldy sock. What's worse is I think the bar staff knew it was horrific as the waiter looked quite apologetic when he asked us how it was. Somehow, and probably due to desperation, we managed to finish it. We had to have another drink just to get the rid of the taste. The concierge had most kindly ordered us a taxi which we unceremoniously fell into and I attempted skewering Lizzie's foot with my heel. We were blessed with a taxi driver who had no idea where he was going - but at least it was more comfortable than a tram. We got there in the end, and just in time to *drum roll* line up! Woo! We made ourselves comfortable on a nearby bench and played uno while accusing each other of cheating and casting spells until the doors opened.

"This is perhaps one of the strangest situations we've found ourselves in."

This was pretty much the tone of our entire evening. We mocked and laughed and tried very hard to be serious, but you must understand that it was incredibly difficult to watch James Marsters sing sexually implicit songs (often about underage girls it would seem) in the vein of Chris Isaak while an army of fangirls turned to goo virtually in front of your eyes. We mock out of love, we swear! The staff and volunteers formed a human barrier between us and the exit as James and co made a hasty retreat, which made me giggle all the more and fear for our lives lest we be murdered for our mocking ways while so trapped. In the end we lived to giggle some more in the cool Melbourne air.

If there is one thing Saturday taught me, it is to never underestimate how useful packing a deck of uno cards can be.

"I don't want to leave this room. Will the hotel be upset if I squat here?"

I had much the same difficulty getting up on Sunday, and made much the same mistake with the curtains. It was with great trepidation that I left the room, and an amazingly awesome bed, behind to stumble down to reception. With our bags stowed safely for the day, we headed of the Queen Victoria Market. I had a beautiful coffee that restored my will to live (and I may also have finished Lizzie's *ahem*) and it was lovely to wander about and be touristy. We came across a gorgeous shop that sold genuine Venetian masks, and I could not resist buying one. I have always wanted one but have never wanted to risk bringing it home. I also got a black lace fan at another little shop. We hopped on a tourist shuttle bus after midday to get a feel for the greater Melbourne area, and stopped off at Docklands' Harbourtown for more shopping. Instead, we were attacked by a velociraptor. Brilliant!

"Thanks to usual travel shenanigans, I was bumped to an earlier flight and am now awaiting Lizzie's arrival in Sydney."

By the time we'd detoured by the botanical gardens, the NGV, and had an absolutely goooooorgeous late lunch at Federation Square, it was late afternoon and time to start the homeward trek. We collected our bags, said our final farewell to the wondrous luxury of the Hilton, and boarded yet another free tram to the station where the airport bus awaited. Turned out that it was lucky we showed up early since the flight we were originally booked on was full and the idiot with the stand-by ticket had to leave on an earlier flight. After inadvertently insulting the guy sitting next to me, and suffering general brain!fail after the weekend's insanity, I made it to Sydney an hour before Lizzie and whittled away the time by getting in the cleaning crew's way. Qantas clearly though we would be a safety hazard on the same plane which, all things considered, is fair enough.

Finally, I arrived home, disappointed that I had to lug my own bag up the stairs; that I was once again probably the geekiest person in the room; that my bed wouldn't make itself; and that a few pages worth of scribbles certainly didn't equate productivity. But even as I kicked the heels off my long-suffering feet and made myself some hot chocolate, I couldn't help but grin -this had truly been an epic weekend.

Music: Crickets chirping
Mood: Exhausted

I have just wasted eighty minutes of my life

I am yet to experience a Soundwave Festival that does not include drama of one form or another. At least come Sunday it'll be over for another six months or so, at which point, after much swearing to never go again, they will announce a line-up that I find hard to resist. They are evil, so very evil.

Speaking of evil, I am going along well in my extremely-late-to-the-party Buffy watching. Halfway through season 2, and yes, I am loving it stupid amounts. Should have paid more attention in the 90s. The amount of love I have for Spike is nothing short of disturbing.

In other news, my mum is now sick too, though I am valiantly ignoring the queasy migraine icky-ness with a vague attempt at being organised - though hampered, I admit, by my seeming inability to remember anything I actually want to do a mere few seconds after thinking of it. Sigh. Still I've narrowed down a couple of things, like the French course I will be enrolling in just as soon as I have hoarded my next couple of pay cheques and paid for the geek quest Supanova expedition. I've also resolved to begin the exercise regime again tomorrow - it always falls by the wayside on holiday. I'm thinking of joining a kick-boxing class too...I really enjoy boxing training though I have no real passion for the actual boxing. So we'll see how we go. Uuuuum what else...oh I have to go the doctor at some point to get some blood tests cause I suspect my iron is low. I'm tired virtually all the time and bruise if you just so much as look as me. Not much fun.

Another thing that isn't much fun is the absolutely appalling performance the Crusaders put in this evening. I have never seen them play that poorly, in fact I hadn't realised the Crusaders were capable of conceding so many turnovers. Um...Richie, come baaaaaack. Abject woe. They have always been slow starters in seasons, and they are fielding half their usual team, but still, that was just depressing. They might just get mad now and destroy everything in their path from now on...we can hope, at least.

Music: Fox Sports
Mood: Annoyed

You see things. You keep quiet about them. And you understand.

The last two days have passed in a flu-tinged blur. I alternated between sleeping the sleep of the dead and watching a lot of things I never got around to watching...like Mr & Mrs Smith, which I fear lacked a decent story and could have been oh so much better with a subtle few plot changes. I also watched Fight Club, so somewhere along the line it became Brad Pitt Thursday. There was a few episodes of Buffy somewhere between sleep and wakefulness as well, and Glee, which I'm not really sold on yet. It is very...strange. Awkward, and strange.

Feeling marginally better, I dragged myself off to work this morning but by 12, I was exhausted. It's that weariness that makes even breathing seem like too much work. Doesn't help that I've developed a cough. I have however retained consciousness and don't have the splitting headache of the past three days, so I managed to power through Stephen Chbosky's The perks of being a wallflower. I thought I was in love almost from the start of this book, it was just so fabulous. Emotive and well written, but above all so relatable, I just wanted to hug it and never let go. I didn't want to stop reading which is so nice compared to the stuff I've been struggling through lately - for uni or post-modern purposes, they've been the kind of books that feel like work, that require me to really concentrate and for whatever reason, I never feel fully immersed. Perks was the complete opposite of that and I immediately felt tied to the story, to Charlie, and oh-my-god how we're so very alike. I'm not really into the ending, I don't know. Maybe I'm used to stories that sort of meander, without real rhyme or reason. Perks easily draws comparison with Catcher in the rye (one of those books I love so completely but I don't even really know why), but there's never any real reason given for Holden being the way he was. He just was, and things ended the way they did because that's the way they ended (oh my eloquence, it blinds me!). For some reason, I felt the ending of Perks tried to add gravity where it wasn't needed, addressed an issue that may have been better left alluded to, instead of teased out and finalised the way it was. It's a beautifully told coming-of-age narrative all the same, but I often find the power lies in what we aren't implicitly told. That may just be me, I don't know. Regardless, the first 100 pages is some of the most perfect affective introspective narrative I've read in a very long while.

Just reading the note on the author, I see Stephen Chbosky helped create and produce Jericho, one of my favourite television shows. Never would have picked that.

My dad has arrived home from Afrique Du Sud, bearing various trinkets from various well meaning relatives. He's complaining about the dust everywhere, but seeing as he wasn't here to witness the full extent of the madness, he can't really appreciate the consequences. We've been told to expect another dust storm tomorrow, and from the footage from rural NSW, it looks like it's going to be almost as bad as the first one. Therefore I wisely didn't wash my car, although I did have to hose it down this morning in order to see out the windshield. It really is gross though, everything is caked with red sand. If I wanted to deal with this sort of thing, I would have lived in the Outback. Bah.

I'm actually hungry for the first time in days, so I think I better act on this while the feeling lasts.

We, soldiers of a different sort,
We, wasters of ink and page,
We, warriors of words,
Masters of melancholy,
harlots of the pen,
We bleed these volumes,
and expect only absolution.
[ Jarvis Black ]

Music: Asleep - The Smiths
Mood: Tired

We all get together when we bury our friends

Out of all the Skins I've watched, the one quote I always come back to is simply "What have we learnt Sidney? You're friends are shitheads." I don't know why. Oh Season 1, nothing compares to you. Yes, you can imagine Sinead O'Connor now if you want.

I'm trying to scrounge up company for either a shopping trip down Oxford street or a stop by Supanova sometime this weekend.

Tomorrow, however, I'm sleeping in for the first morning in far too long. Beware the soul who wakes me before 9.30.

Roze just sent me this link - Buffy meets Edward. I find it quite amusing. Don't get me wrong, I love Edward, but it is well documented that I have little time for Cedric-what's-his-name and he is played like a awkward, slightly creepy teenager in the movie (which is not a vibe I got from the books at all), so yeah. Good giggle.

Music: Kill all your friends - My Chemical Romance
Mood: *sigh*

The earth is doomed

I find it really annoying when people talk about others on twitter as he/she when they’re replying to that very same person’s tweet. Look, I realise it’s someone famous and you’re probably never going to get a reply, but to, for example, comment on a photo Mikey Way posted of himself and then say “he looks so…” whatever, is just weird. Technically you’re engaging in conversation with him, would you refer to him as ‘he’ normally too then? Strange pet peeve I know, but I’m a strange person.

Another pet peeve is trying to decipher the messages my Afrikaans friends send me on Facebook since they have apparently stopped using vowels – Ek wt jy nthou dit haha jy mt my se waneer jy weer ini land is, ns mt by meka km n kuier. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?? It does not take that much effort to include an extra letter here or there. Seriously people, come on. I mean I’m not overly fond of text talk for English, but this is even more annoying. Here I was thinking they were all being so proud of their language lately and yet they bastardise it like this. Perplexing.

Now regarding that trailer I posted earlier while trying not to die [I am not built for this anticipation business, I can barely stand it, and I think it might in fact be my mortal foe. Just think of how often we have fought as I struggled to skip to the last pages of books. Epic battles. I think it’s taking years off my life expectancy.] That is just so Gwen. So demanding. “But why wasn’t the Doctor here to stop all of the evil that’s happened in the world? He should you know, if he has the power, shaaaaame on him. Doesn’t he have a heart? Oh, why must I be the only one with a heart??” Gwen darling, he is just one guy you know. A time lord sure, but still just one. That said, I kinda agree with your reasoning there. I’ve often wondered why he doesn’t just give up on this stupid planet.

In an attempt to derail my one track mind, my friends have been encouraging the watching of other shows. As I’m not really getting into Arrested Development as much as I’d hoped, I have started the first season of Buffy. I should finish it by tomorrow. I know I’m slow on the uptake here, but I somehow managed to completely miss it when it was first on. I think it is safe to say that I am fully converted to the Whedon cult though, because I love it. It’s just so funny, and it has great, believable characters. I really like Giles. He seemed a bit emo in eps from the other seasons I’ve randomly watched, but so far in the first he’s just adorable...
- "I'll just jump in my time machine, go back to the 12th century, and ask the vampires to postpone their ancient prophecy for a few days while you take in dinner and a show."
- “You were right, all along, about everything.... Well, no, you weren't right about your mother coming back as a Pekinese."
- “He's turned into a 16-year-old boy. Of course you'll have to kill him."
Xander has some great lines too...
- “I laugh in the face of danger...then I hide until it goes away.”
- “To read makes our speaking English good.”
So yes, very much enjoying it all. Not obsessively, but god knows I only have room to be completely obsessed with one thing at a time. It takes so much energy. Give me my Children of Earth now goddamnit!

It is fast becoming one of my life's ambitions to attend the San Diego Comic Con. I've heard such wonderful, amazing stories about it in the past and there are always randoms such as the MCR boys running around and being, well, fanboys. This year apparently David Tennant will be there. Nghfgh. Trip to San Diego y/y? Why can't I be a jet setting billionaire, or the daughter of one? I'd be the worst socialite ever, can you imagine - I'd be going from nerd fest to nerd fest, music festival to music festival. The geek socialite! Hee.

In other joyous news, the Book Depository is shipping out my pre-orders! They were only due in next week, so I’m very pleased. Also, I ordered a new extension for my external hard drive yesterday and that should be delivered tomorrow. I can finally get my iTunes back. I love buying things online, it’s just so much more fun getting things all boxed and delivered to your front door.

Now what else…oh got my AAR tickets today. Just organising Wicked now, we’re quite a group heading to that, it takes a while to get things co-ordinated.

I think I need to go away for a weekend or something and do some work. This whole ‘writer’s retreat’ business, as my university keeps referring to it. It would be nice to get away with the sole purpose of being creative, but it’s such a bitch trying to find time for that sort of thing. I just don’t get any work done at home cause it’s home you know, and there’s so much else to distract me. Ah well, see how we go I suppose.

I have to work Saturday *groans* I’m so over all this working.

Music: Peacemaker - Green Day
Mood: Cold